Family Ties: Left Holding the Baby
by HPfanGleekForLife
Summary: “...nothing to worry about, Mr. Malfoy, your daughter’s going to be fine” Hermione is shocked to find that Draco has a daughter.Will curiosity get her in trouble? Or lead to something more? DMHG 1st of a trilogy. LAST CHAPTER NOW UP!
1. He has a daughter?

Hermione Granger walked briskly down the polished corridor towards the staff room. She was late as it was – so she was walking extra-quickly to avoid being late_r_. She detested being late for anything. She anxiously checked her watch as she passed a number of worn tapestries hanging on the stone walls, one or two lopsided, their frames wonky. It was ten past eight. Her shoes squeaked on the wooden floor, each heel clapping alternatively as she climbed the marble steps, which would take her to the second level. The staff room was situated on the _third_ level, and if she timed it right, she would get there in three minutes, approximately.

So far, Hermione had taken her position as Head Girl very seriously. She barely kept a moment to herself, working round the clock to make sure everything was up to scratch. She'd chosen to ignore the comments made by her fellow students, and to carry on as normal. She liked it that way. She _liked_ working, unlike some people she could mention. She didn't say that in front of Harry and Ron, though. Not that they'd pay much attention to her anyway – they were always too absorbed in Quidditch to listen to any advice Hermione had. She'd tried to help them, but they just weren't bothered about grades.

She came to the end of the second floor, and another marble staircase, shorter this time, but wider. Near this staircase was a small door built into the wall, with solid gold hinges, and framed by a pair of ridged stone pillars. They were chipped and the white of the stone had, over the time they'd been there, turned grey, but they still concealed the door as if it were royalty. As Hermione went closer, she swore she could hear voices. She faltered for a moment, listening. No, she must have been dreaming. She raised a foot to make her way up the stairs, and then quickly descended, hurrying towards the door. She stood there quietly, then took a deep breath and put her ear to the wood of the door.

"…So she's alright? I mean, it's nothing serious, is it?" one voice said, sounding worried. She couldn't recognize it through the door, but it sounded like a boy talking.

"Yes, she's quite alright. There's really nothing to worry about, Mr. Malfoy, your daughter's going to be fine…" It was Madame Pomfrey. And the other person was Draco Malfoy. Hang on, though. What was it she said? _Your daughter's going to be fine…_Malfoy had a daughter? When had that happened? Hermione listened on intently.

"Yes, it's just a common cold…easy mistake to make. You see, with babies it's hard to tell if they're very ill or not…" Madame Pomfrey spoke again, her voice using an it's-a-matter-of-fact tone. Hermione frowned. Had she heard them properly? How could Malfoy have a daughter? He was still at school! Hermione was puzzled. A dozen questions spun through her mind…How old was his daughter? Who's her mother? Was she born in the summer? Hermione couldn't think straight. Malfoy, of all people. It was rather unbelievable.

The door opened suddenly, and Hermione stepped backwards in alarm. _Oh no, please don't let him see me…_she thought, hoping that she was out of sight. The last thing she wanted was a grilling from Draco Malfoy for eavesdropping. The door shut, and Hermione heard a bolt scrape closed on the other side of it. She looked up to see Malfoy looking right back at her, a 'you're busted' look on his face.

"You were eavesdropping, weren't you?" he asked her. Hermione wasn't looking at him. She was more interested in the bundle he was holding in his arms.

It was a baby, not much older than three months, half-asleep. Hermione figured out it was a girl, after hearing Madame Pomfrey talking, and Hermione wondered what Malfoy had taken her to Madame Pomfrey for.

"Granger? I'm talking to you," he said almost irritably, and Hermione was taken from her trance.

"Go away, Malfoy. I'm late for my meeting with McGonagall" she snapped at him, fixing him with her best glare. It was difficult, though, because her eyes kept glancing at the half-asleep baby girl he was holding. She wanted to ask him about her, but saw that it wouldn't be a good idea anyway.

"You didn't mind that you were late when you were eavesdropping" Malfoy said casually, adjusting the baby so that she was more comfortable.

"I know she's your daughter, Malfoy. I heard you, didn't I?" she said sharply, trying to get the truth out of him.

"It's none of your business" he replied, dropping his voice a little as if there was someone else about, listening in. "It's none of your business. You can't tell anyone, all right? No one knows except Madame Pomfrey". He moved closer to her, and a little soft whine came from his daughter.

"What's her name?" Hermione blurted out before she could stop herself. She half-expected Malfoy to tell her it was none of her business, but he didn't.

"Who, this little one? Her name's Anielle." Malfoy tightened his hold on the baby and gave her a kiss on her little button nose. Hermione noticed that she did look like her father – same blonde hair, same blue-grey eyes. No wonder he'd taken a shine to her so much. Hermione always thought Malfoy wasn't the fatherly type. As he turned to leave, he called out to her –

"Remember, Granger. Don't tell anyone about Anielle or me. Please."

Hermione had completely forgotten about her meeting with Professor McGonagall. She watched him the corner and disappear out of sight. Hermione couldn't help thinking about Anielle and Malfoy. He'd seemed very attached to her. Well, she _was_ his daughter. But the question of whom her mother was still played in Hermione's mind. Deciding she'd better be getting on to her meeting, she too went off up the stairs to the staff room.


	2. Curiouser and Curiouser

The events of the previous night were still lodged in her mind. Hermione lay in her bed, thinking. So, she was the only one who knew, except Madame Pomfrey, that Malfoy had a little girl. That's what he'd said. Looking up at the dream ceiling of the girl's dormitory, Hermione found herself wondering what it was like, being a parent so young. Unable to get a clear idea, she dragged herself out of her warm, scarlet-duvet bed and searched for her school uniform.

Five minutes later, she was dressed and waiting for Harry and Ron by the portrait hole. They always had breakfast together, Hermione often taking a book or two down with her to catch up. Ron didn't like her doing this – he thought she was a bit over the top when it came to schoolwork. That didn't matter now, though. Hermione still wanted to know who Anielle's mother was. She decided she'd find a way of asking Malfoy about it during her free period. Time was ticking by, and Harry and Ron probably weren't even _up_ yet. Hermione watched as the third hand on the clock in the Gryffindor Common Room went round once, twice, three times. Giving up waiting, Hermione went down to breakfast on her own.

The halls were rather quiet, and she was rather nervous of her footsteps sounding through the long corridors towards the Great Hall. On her way, she passed tiny Professor Flitwick, who was staggering with an enormous pile of books. Hermione would have found this quite funny, but this morning it wasn't. She pushed open the pair of heavy, golden-hinged doors and entered the Great Hall. The aroma of cooking came from the school kitchens, and Hermione walked into the Hall. She noticed that half the school was still in bed. Only a few students, Professor McGonagall and a hunched-over old woman she didn't recognize were seated in the airy room. Hermione took her usual seat by the scrubbed wooden table belonging to Gryffindor House, and settled down to read her book.

One of the people in the Hall was Draco Malfoy. Hermione guessed he'd been up early with Anielle. She smiled to herself as she put her book away and pulled out a copy of the _Prophet_, which she was having sent to her. She turned to the back of the newspaper, and opened it out at a page which had the headline _Minister to enforce knew laws regarding underage wizardry_. Yes, Cornelius Fudge had been talking of passing a new rule for months. Skimming the narrow article, Hermione found nothing of interest, and folded up the paper.

She cast a glance round at the other students sitting at their tables, and her eyes came to rest on Malfoy. It wasn't the first time, or the second. Ever since she found out about his daughter, she'd become increasingly curious about him. He, like her, was reading a book, his eyes whipping from side to side as he read one line after another. Hermione found it nice to watch him, even though she tried hard to remind herself that she _did not like him under any circumstances_. His fringe was a bit long and in the way of his eyes, and every now and then, he had to flick it out of the way. Hermione noticed that he was chewing his bottom lip, a habit he had when he was concentrating on something.

Hermione turned back to her book, which lay open in front of her on the table. She took a sip of pumpkin juice, and opened a packet of Fizzing Whizbees she found in her robe pocket. As she chewed on the sugary sweet, Harry and Ron came through the Great Hall doors, followed by Ginny and Luna Lovegood. Today, Luna had her hair in a straggly ponytail and her earrings were made from Fire Whiskey bottle tops. Her face had the usual surprised expression, and she looked dreamy as she sat down next to Ginny, in front of Hermione.

"Why didn't you wait for us, Hermione?" Ron said, yawning and stretching. "We weren't that late getting up." Hermione frowned at him and put the packet of Fizzing Whizbees back into her pocket. Harry noticed the book on the table, and said, with a sigh, "You're not reading _again_, are you?"

He picked up the leather-bound volume and peered at the front and back covers. Hermione noticed that Luna was reading an issue of the _Quibbler_, upside down. She didn't even bother to ask.

Before she could answer Harry and Ron's questions, she got up from the table. Her robes swished as she marched away, her shoes clacking on the terracotta tiles of the Hall. On her way out, she passed a few giggly Ravenclaw girls on their way to breakfast, and a couple of surly-looking Slytherin fifth years. Hermione found herself thinking about Malfoy and his three-month-old daughter as she ascended the steps to Gryffindor Tower. What was it _really_ like, having a baby to look after? She found herself wondering if he found it possible to get his schoolwork done. They'd had a lot of homework recently, but somehow he'd managed to stay on top of everything.

The Common Room was quiet. Dark ashes lay in the remains of the previous night's fire, charred wood twisted into black snakes among the pile of grey dust. Hermione stood still to have a look around. She was only staying here in the Common Room until the Head's dorm was finished, and she would be sharing it with the Head Boy. She didn't know who it was yet – only Professor McGonagall did. She'd tell Hermione who it was after Christmas. Her brown eyes followed the scarlet-painted walls, a few tapestries along the way. It was a very ornate room, full of gold and red and deep browns and burnt oranges. She settled herself down in her favourite armchair by the fire, put her book aside, and cleared her mind.

The lunch bell sounded. Hermione woke with a start. How long had she been asleep? She looked at her watch bleary-eyed, and was able to see that it was ten to one. How many lessons had she missed? Hurriedly, she raced upstairs, swung her bag over her shoulder, picked up the book she had put on the floor, and set off quickly to the Hall for lunch. The stone walls echoed her footsteps and the noisy chatter of students, coming down from all directions. Hermione dodged them, going down a silent corridor unknown to many students, with polished wooden floorboards, whitewashed walls, and heavy torches hanging in brass brackets along each wall.

She slipped quietly down the long corridor, passing a number of golden-hinged doors identical to the one she'd eavesdropped on Malfoy and Madame Pomfrey by, and each door had a brass number nailed to it. Twenty-four. Thirty-six. Forty-eight. Eighteen. Then a door with no number, except a placard engrave with words in Latin. She didn't know what was behind these doors – and she wasn't interested in finding out.

It took long time to walk the length of the hallway – it was a very long corridor and she'd gone well out of her way. The thing was, she liked to have a little walk for some exercise before eating. It was then that she heard someone coming the other way. There was a wide oak door at the end of the corridor, but Hermione had excellent hearing. Hermione reached out to the brass doorknob, but before she could reach it the door swung open the other way. It was Draco Malfoy.

"What are you doing down here?" Hermione had to ask.


	3. Duty Calls

He looked at her darkly.

"You haven't told anyone, have you?" he asked suspiciously. Hermione shook her head. No, she'd kept her mouth shut like she promised. And she didn't really _want_ to tell anyone, anyway. It wouldn't interest Ron or Harry, and Ginny was too preoccupied with Seamus Finnigan to spread rumours about Malfoy like she used to. Hermione inwardly chuckled as she remembered the time when Ginny had told everyone that Lucius wasn't his real father – what chaos that had caused!

"What are you doing down here?" Hermione repeated, getting impatient. She'd wasted five minutes of her lunch break standing there, waiting for the jumped-up, pompous Slytherin Seeker to open his mouth and tell her. She raised one eyebrow, frowned, let her folded arms fall to her sides, and dared take a step towards him.

"If you must know, Granger" he said, his voice a low, barely audible whisper, "I came down here for some _peace_. And, so far, I'm not getting it" he coughed roughly, and Hermione folded her arms.

"Well, you should have gone to the Room of Requirement – nothing to disturb you there. You could take Pansy along with you" she replied curtly, noticing that Malfoy was fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve. It amused her that he was bothered by her words.

"Don't talk to me about Pansy flaming Parkinson. I'm sick of her," he said miserably. Hermione could swear she heard a distinct tone of possible friendlessness in his voice. She didn't worry about that, though.

"Right, if you don't mind moving, I'll be on my way" Hermione held her head high and tried to step around him, but he moved the same way, blocking her path.

"What?" she snapped at him, scowling. She was in no mood for games. All she wanted was something to eat, and then she could go and study somewhere quiet. Outside, perhaps. Somewhere where there were no _ferrets_ around to bug her. It was sometimes freakishly abnormal how her affections for someone or something changed so quickly. Just ten minutes ago, she'd been sympathizing with him, but now she wanted him to budge so she could have her lunch.

"Are you going to get out of the way or not?" Hermione forcefully asked him for the millionth time. And, for the millionth time, he didn't say anything, just smirked and refused to budge. It was starting to annoy her very much. In the distance, she could hear the chatter of students as groups of them drifted out of the Hall. She was getting very hungry. Hermione summoned all the dignity she could muster, tucked a stray curl of hair behind her ear, and tried one last time.

"Get out of the way, Malfoy. I'm hungry," she said, frowning so hard her brow furrowed into cross-stitch on her forehead. No such luck, however, because then he said, "And what if I don't?"

That was _it_. Hermione was seething. How could he constantly be so _stubborn_? She even wondered how his mother put up with it. Then she remembered – he _had_ no mother. She was killed early on in the summer. _Well, ha-di-ha to you, Malfoy. You won't be getting the better of me **this** year, _she thought proudly. She was just about to open her mouth and say something insulting when she noticed that Malfoy was looking at something. It was a small, square remote of some sort.

He looked at her, pressed a button on the black remote, and then stepped aside.

"Duty calls" he said, all too satisfied, before swaggering off in his usual manner down the corridor.

Hermione was puzzled. What was that about?


	4. Head Boy, Head Girl and the Nightmare

It was nearing mid-December and Christmas spirit was high among the students. Each corridor was strung with long vines of holly and tinsel, and Professor Flitwick had put up the Great Hall Christmas tree already. Hermione was surprised that Christmas had come round so quickly. Their first day back in September seemed like only a week ago!

The only person, Hermione realized, who was _not_ happy about the festive season was Malfoy. Hermione wasn't surprised, though. He certainly could be a bit prejudiced sometimes. But Christmas was Christmas, wasn't it? Hermione even found herself joining in with Harry and Ron's festive pranks, which varied from dropping water bombs on passing Slytherins to putting permanent-sticking charms on all the Christmas tree decorations so they wouldn't come off.

Meanwhile, the subject of staying at school was brought up a few times, and Hermione had to admit, she wasn't entirely sure. Of course, she had her duties over the festive season as Head Girl, and she wanted to see her new dormitory, but there were other things as well. Her parents had promised her a winter trip to Canada, somewhere she'd always wanted to visit. Plus, her cousins were visiting whom she hadn't seen in ages. It was a tough decision.

Hermione was scouring the Entrance Hall notice board, debating whether or not to sign up for staying over the holidays, when she saw another name written on the list. Her quill poised in mid air, she squinted to get a closer look. Draco Malfoy. She should have known. Of course he'd stay over Christmas. He always did. Only this time, she hoped he'd have a more sensible reason for staying on than he usually did.

"Staying on for Christmas, are we, Granger?" a voice behind her sounded through the quiet.

"What's in it for you, Malfoy?" Hermione retorted, not turning round to face him. Why did he want to know if she was staying or not? She spun on her heel and looked at him.

"Don't you have someone to take care of?" she glared, and was surprised to see that he actually smiled at her. "That's none of your business, Granger" he replied almost coldly. "If I were you, I wouldn't ask any more questions."

Hermione folded her arms. Why did he have to be so stubborn all the time? He should try being nice for once – he might enjoy it. She was on the verge of saying this when Professor McGonagall came down the Entrance Hall corridor. She stopped abruptly in front of Hermione and Malfoy. Lowering her square spectacles, she looked at them both.

"Professor, we were just…" Hermione began to explain, and McGonagall raised her hand to hush her.

"Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy, I'd like to see you both on your way _right now_. I most certainly disapprove of students hovering about in corridors. You should know that, Miss Granger" McGonagall looked at Hermione over her glasses.

"Run along, you two" she signalled the two of them to leave that instant. Then, she swept away, her long emerald green robe billowing along the floor majestically.

"You do know I can give you a detention, don't you?" Hermione turned to face Malfoy again.

"And why would you do that? It's unusual for a Head to punish another student in their position" Malfoy replied, examining his fingernails, his normally pale face flushed and his expression looking rather smug. It took a few seconds, but Hermione soon caught on. _He_ was Head Boy.

Hermione stared. She couldn't figure it out. Why oh why had Professor McGonagall chosen _him_ to be Head Boy? There was nothing of praise about the _ferret_. Just because his grades were second to hers, it didn't mean that he should be rewarded for it. He raised an eyebrow. "Got it yet, Granger?" he taunted her. He lowered his hands and came closer to her. Hermione involuntarily stepped backwards. He was at least four inches taller, and wide-shouldered._ And muscled,_ Hermione thought. _Oh no! Oh no! I must not think of that! He is not good looking!_ She fiercely pushed all those kind of thoughts out of her head. When he was standing this close, Hermione had to admit, she felt intimidated by him.

"You know, if we have to live together, you might have to start being _nice_ to me" he whispered in her ear, making her whole body tingle. His breath tickled the whorls of skin inside her ear and made goose bumps erupt up and down her arms and legs. He moved back and put his hands in his pockets. With a final proud smirk, he brushed past her airily as if nothing had happened, even though his nose was sticking up in the air rather pompously. _Damn you, Malfoy!_ She cursed to herself as she walked in the opposite direction, after signing her name swiftly on the list of students staying on for the holidays. She was going to get back at Malfoy. She was going to get back at him and his little _daughter_.

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At dinner that evening, Hermione couldn't help smiling to herself. She knew that Ron was going home for Christmas, but Harry was staying on. She was rather glad – at least she had someone to talk to if things at her new Head's dorm got difficult. She'd mused the idea of sharing her dormitory with Malfoy quite a couple of times, before she realised something major.

_**Of course**. _

**_Anielle would have to live with them as well_**.

She swore under her breath at the thought of trying to do her homework on time with a crying baby around, constantly craving attention. Now she really _was_ going to get back at Malfoy. If her grades fell because of his _angelic_ offspring, she would kill him. Oh, she would kill him.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked her over their treacle tart and custard. Hermione realised she'd been smiling to herself again. Even laughing, she then noticed.

"Nothing, I was just…nothing" she said quickly. Harry didn't look convinced, but he knew better than to ask Hermione about it. She swallowed down a spoonful of tart and took a long drink of pumpkin juice. She hadn't eaten since lunch, and she was ravenous. She often skipped dinner then went to the elves in the kitchen for a snack later on, but she decided to sit and eat with the rest of her house that night.

"Hey, Hermione. Do you know who the Head Boy is?" that was Ron. As usual, he had a mouthful of food and it was hard to work out what he was saying. Hermione frowned at him, and he swallowed his food guiltily.

"Yes, I do. I found out, er, this morning" Hermione answered, spooning up the last of her custard. She was known to be a fast eater when there was work to be done.

"Who is it?" Harry asked, looking at her.

"Er, it's Malfoy. Yes, I know. Who on earth would make him Head Boy?" Hermione tried to laugh along with them, but she found herself almost choking on her pumpkin juice. Why was joking about that idiot so hard?

Hermione quickly finished her tart and shot up from the bench. Ron raised an eyebrow at her, but she ignored him. She decided it was safer to go and do her homework in the Common Room than let the conversation here turn to the Slytherin's. She had an essay for Professor Flitwick to do on Cheering Charms, and a particularly tough one for Professor Snape on Mood Enhancing Potions._ Both essays will keep me busy for the night_, she thought. She left the Great Hall quickly, swinging her bag over her shoulder and marching up the steps to Gryffindor Tower importantly. On reaching the portrait hole, she saw that the Fat Lady was snoozing peacefully in her peach dress, perched on a tree stump.

"Excuse me!" Hermione called. "The password's '_Specialis Revelio'_". She stood in front of the Fat Lady waiting for her to open the portrait to allow her inside. The Fat Lady stirred and murmured, "Ok, you may enter". The portrait swung forward. Hermione walked in, put her bag on one of the armchairs in front of the roaring fire, and spread her books, parchment, quills and ink over the wide, polished mahogany working table by the window.

It was quiet. Flecks of snow started to drift past the frosted glass. Dark grey clouds filled the vast space overhead. She always liked it when it snowed, because it reminded her of peace. Peace and tranquillity. That was what she needed. Forgetting all of her thoughts that weren't relevant to her homework, she dipped her quill in her blue ink and wrote the title _Mood Enhancing Potions and their Properties_ on the top of one roll of parchment. She sat back and opened an emerald colour leather-bound book that was resting in her lap. She flipped to the index at the back of the book, and looked under M for Mood Enhancing Potions. It wasn't there. Hermione was confused. How could it just have disappeared from the index? She'd seen it written in there not four hours ago, during double Potions! Was this book playing tricks on her? She searched the long list again. No, it wasn't there. Everything else was, but what she was looking for wasn't. She cursed silently. Things were definitely not looking up for her this week. Having enough, she crossed the room to keep her book and rummaged in her bag for the Charms papers she'd done in class. At least _they_ were there. She'd work on her Charms essay instead until she could find out what happened to Mood Enhancing Potions in that index.

She'd written a couple of paragraphs, each quite long, when the end-of-dinner bell sounded. Her stomach rumbled slightly. Students were filling up the corridors, chattering noisily. A group of Ravenclaws passed the portrait hole on their way to their own dormitory. Unable to work while there was noise in the room, Hermione gave up and packed her things. Yawning, she climbed the staircase to the girl's dormitory, pulled the hangings shut around her bed, and fell asleep, fully clothed, on the rumpled wine-red velvet.

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Morning light was filtering through the gaps in the bed hangings. Hermione rubbed her eyes and sat up, squinting in the light. She searched around for her school uniform, only to realise she was still wearing it, only more creased and uncomfortable. She had some clean robes in her trunk, and her skirt would have to do, as she didn't have another one. Climbing out of bed, she reached into her open trunk and pulled out a pale grey sweater and a clean pair of school robes. Putting them on with one hand, she grabbed a Cauldron Cake from her bedside table with the other. Munching on the chocolate muffin-like confectionery, she went downstairs. Her roommates and the boys were still asleep, so she had a chance to think for herself. Settling down in a plush armchair, she lay back and closed her eyes. Sunday mornings were always the best, and now she could rest for a while before carrying on with her work after breakfast. It was still early, and Hermione was tired. It was shame that once she was up, she was up and she never went back to bed. Soon enough, she was feeling all the tension escaping her body. She was feeling relaxed, and at home. She knew she mustn't fall asleep, but it was hard not to. Her head lolled to one side as she fell into a light doze. Her mind slipped into a trance, and started to work of it's own accord.

_Something was coming. She could feel it. A sharp pain ran up her leg as she tried to run away. Heavy footsteps sounded behind her, the sound of glass breaking and ceramic smashing filling her ears. She was paralysed with fear. She should never have come here. In the distance, she heard a few painstaking cries. All she could see was pitch black for a long way. Where was the door? Which way had she come in?_

_Someone was behind her. She could hear their deep, ragged breathing on the back of her neck. What was going to happen to her? Cold, clammy hands spun her round and forced her to look the person in the eye. A person in a hood. A person in a hood and a thick black cloak down to the floor. A Death Eater. She tried to scream but that same hand clamped her mouth shut. She was being forced onto the floor, and she could feel this person's weight crushing her body. What did they want? She wriggled in hope to free herself, but strong arms pinned her down. Her breath was shortened by this person's heavy form on her chest. Her face grew pale. This person, whoever it was, reached up to pull back their hood. _

"_Ready to play, Hermione?" the person said. Before she could register their appearance, her whole body was crushed as the Death Eater began to beat her violently underneath their grasp…_

Hermione woke up with a start. She was drenched in a cold sweat and she felt very sick. The dream had seemed so real. Her stomach was seesawing up and down with fright, and Hermione fought against the urge kneel over a toilet and be sick. Breathing irregularly, Hermione got up shakily and checked her watch. It was quarter to eleven. She'd missed her first class of the day and half of her second, but she wasn't thinking about that now. Trying to calm herself, she picked up her bag and made her way out of the portrait hole and down to Transfiguration, where she should have been at that moment.

Walking down the corridor, Hermione's mind was reeling. The nightmare, what had it meant? The Death Eater, who was it? She could still feel the hot menacing breath on her neck; the cold clammy hands on her shoulders. Suddenly, she had a powerful attack of nausea. It knocked her backwards, and she hurried towards the girls' toilets as fast as she could. Running into a cubicle, Hermione bent over and emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. She felt sick, very very sick. She needed to lie down. After a few more minutes, she stood up. Big mistake. She quickly turned round and was sick repeatedly. She needed help. Forcing herself to stand up and walk out of the cubicle, she flushed the toilet and left.

Her stomach was horribly empty. She couldn't face food right now. She walked straight out of the toilets, turned the corner, and walked smack bang into Draco Malfoy.

"Watch where you're going, Granger" he said harshly. Hermione's head spun furiously. She was dizzy. Why should a nightmare make her feel like this? She certainly didn't want to discuss her condition with Malfoy, so she walked on. After a few steps, she was out of breath and leaning against the rough wall. Her knees gave way, and she collapsed to the ground.

But not before Malfoy caught her.


	5. Questions, Questions, Questions

Hermione opened her eyes, blinked a few times to clear her vision, and found herself staring straight at a pair of blue-grey orbs opposite her. She wriggled around trying to get comfortable between her cotton sheets, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She was only vaguely aware of where she was, but she knew she was lying down because she could see the white ceiling above her. She turned her head sideways and found herself face to face with Draco Malfoy. He was looking at her solemnly, his fringe over his eyes, as if she was dying, but most of his attention was focused on his daughter, whom he was holding. She seemed to be asleep, but when Malfoy tried to hold her more comfortably, she started whining softly, happy where she was, and not wanting to be moved from the position she was in.

Hermione then realised where she was – the hospital wing. How had she got there? Malfoy couldn't have brought her there, surely. She attempted to sit up, but her head was heavy and throbbing. Malfoy turned to face her, and he said, "Are you alright now? Only you fainted. I brought you here". His voice was casual, and airy, unsympathetic to her, as if just making conversation. If so, he wouldn't have made conversation with her like that at the start of term. Hermione was irritated greatly by this, and channelled most of her concentration towards Anielle instead. She'd stopped whining now, and was starting to nod off quietly, but she was looking up at her dad lovingly as she did so.

Up close, Hermione saw that she was a very small baby for a three-month-old, with tiny hands and fingers. She was bundled in a snowy-white blanket. Her enormous blue-grey eyes shone under the hospital lights. The resemblance to Malfoy himself was quite obvious. Her skin was like porcelain, and her cheeks were rosy, like her lips. Hermione had to admit; she was a beautiful little girl, even if she was a Malfoy. There was an age of silence before she found her voice.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him, though she didn't have enough strength to express her irritation. So, she settled for just being casual like he had done.

"I wanted to see if you were alright" he replied in a matter-of-fact tone. He hitched Anielle up slightly, so that she didn't fall off his lap. Her head lolled gently against shoulder and he held her closer to him, stroking her soft, matted blonde hair affectionately with his pale fingers.

"I thought you didn't like me," Hermione said, her eyebrows raised slightly She pursed her full lips in a way very much like her own mother did.

"I don't, Granger. You're right about that. I just have this need to take care of a girl if she was to fall ill. My father taught me it was good manners, to any girl, whoever she was. I thought he was right, so I went along with it," he answered, shrugging. Anielle made a soft, contented sound as he half-hugged her to his well exercised, muscled chest. Hermione's eyes constantly drifted back to her petite, baby form in the blanket. It was obvious that he cared about her from the way he was holding her. And looking at her, as well; a somewhat dreamy, besotted gaze, quite unlike his usual ways. Anielle coughed quietly and he patted her back gently to relieve her. He certainly had fatherhood under control, age no matter. Hermione wanted to ask him why he'd brought her here, why he'd stayed, with Anielle too, and, most importantly, top priority, she wanted to ask him about Anielle's mother and him.

She wanted answers for so many questions. Who was she? Was she a witch? Did he love her? Why wasn't she taking care of Anielle with him? Did the two of them have a serious relationship? Were they still together? All these and fistfuls more buzzed around madly in her brain like a dozen fire alarms, all going off at once, not knowing or caring that they were loud and disruptive to her mind. Some people, had they known about it, might have called her nosy. To her, it was more like intrigue. Curiosity.

Malfoy got up to leave. Hermione pulled her blanket further up as she was feeling chilly in the hospital. Like Madame Pince, Madame Pomfrey the matron never bothered with heating and settled for using extra blankets during the winter months. With a curt nod, he turned on his heel and walked away. She watched as he pulled open the wide, dark-wooded and brass-hinged double doors of the hospital wing and disappeared through them, Anielle in tow. Her mind was busy trying to figure things out, put pieces together that were lying about all over the place in her brain. Why had he actually done a proper selfless act for once, for _her_? Why her? She was Muggle-born. A _Mudblood, _she dared to think. He loathed her, as he did every other witch and wizard with non-magic parents in the school. So why the sudden courtesy? Was it something to do with her being Head Girl alongside his position as Head Boy? Did he think, because they were going to be living together and working together from now on, that it would be best to at least _try_ to be civil?

Sighing, Hermione closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Inwardly, she willed with all her might that that terrifying nightmare she'd experienced wouldn't return. It was only half past eleven in the morning, but she was feeling tired. Her head sunk into the plush hospital pillow, and she drifted off into a heavy, dreamless sleep. No nightmares, no babies, no Slytherin ferrets and their offspring. Or so she thought…

_She was cold. She was tired. She was hungry. Her head was spinning violently as she shuffled around the bare stone cell where she was kept. Where was she? _

_Suddenly, she heard the scrape of a lock and keys rattling nearby. A swish of a cloak and someone's sharp, hissing voice laughing malevolently under their breath. She was starting to feel scared. The chill got into her clothes. The person was coming closer. Their heavy footsteps sounded across the cracked tiled floor. _

_A hand found her own and clasped it far too tightly. She was pulled roughly forward. She stumbled foolishly on the tiles and grazed her knees. _

"_Right…let's see how you are feeling, shall we?" a voice came from the Death Eater in front of her. She didn't recognise it. The person's hot breath made her neck tingle with fear. She didn't know if it was the same man who had beat her the night before. She winced as the man pushed himself against her, against her purple bruised skin._

"_Ready for another go? This time, you'll listen…" the man croaked dryly, before grabbing her arms and violently throwing her against the opposite wall. She hit her head, but that didn't matter to her. She wanted to get out of there, as soon as possible. As soon as possible. _

Nevertheless, all the while this was going on in her head, the questions still stayed at the back of her mind, waiting to probe at the fibres of her brain the minute she woke up. Questions, questions, questions. So many questions unanswered.


	6. A new dormitory

Hermione woke up at seven thirty on the dot that evening. She wasn't hungry, but she was thirsty. She couldn't remember having a dream, but the image of a dark, dingy cell was vague in the back of her mind. What she did remember, though, were the probing questions that sat at the back of her mind from that morning. She found herself thinking back over the morning's events in great detail, and wondering why on earth would someone like Draco Malfoy, who hated her, bring her to the hospital wing after she fainted, and stay to see of she was alright. It confused her. There was so much information in her mind that it was hard to make sense of it all. The only thing that was clear was Anielle. She was in the castle. _Living_ and being _taken care of_ by Malfoy inside the castle. How come no one had noticed – especially the Slytherins – that she was there? Unless Malfoy had put a silencing charm on her cot, but that didn't seem likely. She was sure someone would have noticed a three-month-old baby inside the castle. Unfortunately, this made her think of _why_ he was keeping her, his own daughter, a secret from everyone. Was there a reason behind it all?

She sat up in her hospital bed and rubbed her eyes. She'd had a long sleep, and felt as though she'd lost valuable time, not to mention homework. She'd have to ask her teachers the next day. Hermione leaned over and poured herself a glass of water from the jug on her bedside table. Just as she was about to take a sip, Madame Pomfrey came bustling in.

"Right, Miss Granger" she said briskly, beaming at her. She was an aged, smiley woman with bright blue eyes and gentle hands. Hermione never actually got to talk to her properly as she was rarely admitted to the hospital.

"It seems that all your tests are fine, so you can leave right now if you want," she smiled, flicking through some parchment she had in her hand. Hermione nodded, then Madame Pomfrey left Hermione to change into her school uniform. Five minutes later, she was up out of bed, out of the hospital, and walking down the long polished corridor towards the Great Hall for dinner. She passed several large, bushy Christmas trees on her way, and cautioned many groups of giggling first years playing pranks on Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris. She smiled to herself as the smell of delicious food came from the kitchens near the Great Hall. Hermione opened the huge doors, and stepped inside.

Immediately, she spotted Harry and Ron sitting not far from the end of the Gryffindor table, their heads together, chatting animatedly. _Probably planning their latest pranks on poor Mrs. Norris, _she thought as she went to join them. She sat down between the two boys, and before she could start to speak, Luna Lovegood chirruped in.

"When's the next Quidditch game, then?" she asked, looking round at Harry, Ron and Hermione in turn. They each tried to ignore the fact that Luna was wearing her radish earrings again, accompanied by a necklace of Butterbeer corks.

"In two weeks. Just after Christmas" Harry grinned. "Are you commentating?"

"Yeah, but I only just made it. Professor McGonagall doesn't think much of my match comments, you see" she replied airily, her arched eyebrows rising even higher up her forehead. She sighed deeply, then turned to Ron. "Where's your sister?" she asked. Ron's face turned the colour of beetroot – not a good sign. Hermione's mind was somewhere else entirely. She hadn't heard Luna speaking, and was only slightly aware of Harry smiling shyly at Ginny, who had just come in. Her mind was on something else. Something much more important than Quidditch commentary and where Ginny was. Once again, the questions of the morning had spiralled into her mind, and as she helped herself to Yorkshire pudding and roast beef, she let her mind wander along those lines.

She tried to recall what Anielle looked like. She knew she was blonde, like Malfoy, and her eyes were blue-grey. But she couldn't remember her precise appearance. She'd been wrapped in a white blanket, so not much of body was shown. Hermione knew she was small, petite, even though she was three months old. Well, four now, she assumed. It was difficult. Then she remembered that she would be sharing a dormitory with Malfoy after Christmas. Only, it wasn't going to be just him. Anielle would be living with them as well. Of course, Malfoy would be around her all the time, so she shouldn't bother Hermione _that_ much. If she could get her homework done, then she was happy. She didn't know if Anielle was a restless baby, or if she cried a lot – Malfoy left that bit out when he'd told Hermione about her. It didn't make Hermione too uneasy, despite the circumstances. There were exams coming up, NEWTs, and she had been worrying if Anielle would keep her up all night and she wouldn't be able to work. Naturally, it would be harder for Malfoy to get any work done. She wondered how he'd managed previously, even. Not thinking any more about the matter, she turned her attention to the puddings sitting in front of her on the table. Selecting a bowl of strawberry ice-cream, she relaxed and dug her spoon into the soft pink treat.

At eight o'clock, Hermione received a message from Professor McGonagall to meet her right that minute in her office, to talk about the new dormitory and her Head duties. She figured Malfoy would be there too. She pocketed the note that Neville had brought her, and left the Common Room. Four quick minutes later, she was knocking on the door of Professor McGonagall's office. She came to the door herself, and opened it. Hermione followed her in. As she thought, Malfoy was there, standing just to the right of McGonagall's desk. He was chewing at his nails and looking around the lavishly furnished room as if to think, _I wish I didn't have to be here_. Professor McGonagall got straight to the point. Coughing lightly, she called for Hermione and Malfoy's attention.

"Now, I am sure that you know you have been selected as this year's Head Boy and Girl. First and foremost, you will have to share a dormitory" her eyes rested for a moment on Malfoy, and then she continued, "and I am sure that you will both be comfortable there. Of course, you will have your duties, which you are to do together. Your job is to patrol the corridors after curfew, making sure that there are no students out of bed after that time. You both have the power to remove and give out house points, and also to give out detention to those needing it" she looked over the rim of her square glasses. Hermione nodded. So did Malfoy. They caught each other's eye, but soon turned away. Professor McGonagall dismissed them, but not before telling them where to find their new dormitory.

It was the second door on the left, sixth corridor up. It was a long walk, and Malfoy was quick to complain that it was quite high up. Hermione chose not to say anything, and they both carried on walking in silence. On reaching the sixth corridor, Malfoy took the lead. _As usual,_ she thought. He stepped in front of her and opened the second door on the left, just as McGonagall had instructed. There was no password, but the did have a lock on the door. He stepped in and she followed him. Closing the door behind them, Hermione turned round to look. She was speechless. The walls were cream, with mahogany tables and chairs and a huge black leather sofa in the middle. There were matted woollen rugs in red and green, and two tapestries of the houses that they belonged to, Gyrffindor and Slytherin. It was a luxurious room, with an enormous blazing fire. Malfoy was just staring around the place, taking it all in. He seemed to be lost for words too. Hermione was very pleased. She plucked up the courage to ask Malfoy something.

"Will your daughter have to live here too?" she asked, turning to face him.

"Yes, of course she will! I'm not going to leave her on her own" he said pointedly, raising his eyebrows. Hermione said nothing more, and proceeded on upstairs. She climbed the staircase towards the door with the Gyrffindor tapestry on it. Opening the door, Hermione walked into her bedroom. It was just how she imagined it. Red and gold, with dark wood for the headboard and desk. She saw that all her things had already been brought up. She was going to be very happy here, even if Anielle was going to be sharing with them.


	7. Sickness and Suspicions

The next morning, Hermione woke at, yet again, half past seven on the dot. It was dark in her bedroom, the hangings closed around her new four-poster bed, the curtains drawn outside the secluded enclosure. It was a Saturday, and a Hogsmeade trip was scheduled for the afternoon. Hermione blinked. She couldn't remember what she'd been doing in the past twenty-four hours. She knew she was in her new Head's dormitory. And she knew that Malfoy was there too. And she also knew that Anielle, his daughter, was here. She hadn't seen either of them the previous night. She'd gone up to bed before either of them returned. She'd been tired. There were too many things going on in her mind. Too much to think about. She heard a faint rustling sound coming from the Common Room. A kettle boiling, and something being poured. It was Malfoy, of course. He was moving around downstairs, but quietly. Hermione got out of bed and tied her dressing gown around herself. She put on her slippers.

When she got downstairs, she saw that Malfoy was sitting in one of the black leather armchairs by the fire; piles of splintered wood lay amongst old ashes in the newly-lit flames. He turned his head when he heard her footsteps coming down the stone staircase.

"You're up early, Granger" he commented.

"I'm always up early" she shrugged. Of course, he wouldn't know that having been in a separate Common Room from her half his life. Hermione walked over to where he was sitting. He was cradling Anielle, who was nodding off quietly. She wasn't wrapped in the white blanket now. Instead, she was dressed in a light pink sleep suit, her tiny hands and feet bare. She looked very sweet with her blonde hair all sticking up at odd angles. Malfoy shuffled about in the armchair, as if trying to get more comfortable.

"I've just fed her," he said, nodding in Anielle's direction. Hermione nodded in reply. He yawned slightly, and then got up. Hermione noticed that he looked tired. Well, it was obvious he would be tired. Hermione went over to the kettle he had just boiled for Anielle's bottle, and switched it off at the mains. She didn't like wasting electricity.

"You can use Muggle appliances?" Hermione asked him, pointing towards the kettle. He turned to look at her.

"My mother taught me how to use them" he replied, shrugging. He swept past her, and went up the staircase. Just before he went into his own bedroom, he called out, "Why, do you think I'm not capable of using Muggle electronics, Granger?" he laughed heartily, if cruelly, and entered his bedroom. Hermione was relieved when the door shut with a soft _click_. He could be very irritating sometimes. Hermione decided to put that in the back of her mind and get herself ready for the Hogsmeade trip. That would take her mind off things. She went to her bedroom and got dressed. She pulled on a pale pink pastel sweater and her favourite washed-blue jeans. Casual, yet smart. She was ready by twenty to eight – she usually took less time than that to get ready, but she felt a little slow that morning.

She tugged a brush through her brunette curls and put some colour in her cheeks. Then she was ready to go. No sound came from Malfoy's bedroom. She wondered whether he'd gone back to bed (and Hermione wouldn't be surprised if he had), but light footsteps across the ceiling proved that theory incorrect. She hadn't seen his bedroom, but she suspected it was green and silver, like the colours of his own house. Then Hermione realised what had just come into her mind. _Urgh! I definitely __**do not**__want to see Draco Malfoy's stupid bedroom. Anyway, he'd only tell me to get the hell out or something. Why does he always have to be so arrogant? _She quickly focused her mind on something else. Along the hallway, the breakfast bell sounded from a distance. Hermione went to check her watch, only to notice she'd forgotten to put it on. Sighing, she went back upstairs to get it. She sat on her bed, near the headboard, and opened the drawer of her bedside table. She rummaged through it, looking for her watch, and at that moment, the room began to turn. Slowly at first, but then it began to spin more quickly.

She grabbed hold of the bedside table to steady her. Hermione's head span with the pace of the room. She could feel her body growing hot and uncomfortable under her thick sweater. Why did this keep happening to her? It was only twenty-four hours ago that she was lying in a bed in the hospital wing after fainting from the aftermath of another nightmare. What did they mean? Slowly, she tried to get up. Her head was pounding, and room was turning sideways again. In her haste, she knocked a white, willow-patterned china vase off the bedside table. She bent down to pick up the broken pieces of delicate ceramic, and she felt as if someone had pulled a string in her back. It was very painful, but Hermione fought against the urge to scream. Only she wasn't actually having another nightmare – it was just the terror and injury she was feeling, not the images themselves. Her hands began to shake. She had no control over herself; it was as if someone, somewhere, was _making_ this happen to her by forces of magic. The pain in her back escalated, and she could barely move her legs. Her hands sweated, and one of the broken pieces of china slipped. She winced as the sharp corner of the fragment cut her palm. Tears formed in her eyes. WHAT WAS HAPPENNING? She slumped against the wall, defeated, the cut on her hand stinging with the heat of her body. In a second, her head cleared. Her hands stopped shaking. Her body cooled down. She was feeling back to normal.

She didn't understand. Why had that just happened? It was as if someone had taken over her body in those last few minutes, and those things had happened to her. It was frightening, and she knew she had to speak to someone; about the nightmares, the symptoms she experienced, what exactly that it was happened every time she saw a tall dark figure darkening her path…

There was a knock at her door. Hermione jumped up to get it, then realised she was still holding the broken fragments of china. The tears in her eyes were still there, but she couldn't bring herself to wipe them away. There was another knock on the door, louder this time. _Ok, ok, I'm coming_ she thought as she crossed the room. Putting the pieces of the vase aside, she opened the door. Surprise, surprise, it was Malfoy. She forced herself to look straight at him. Her voice cracking, she spoke the very few words that came into her mind,

"What do you want?" her voice was dry and quiet, with a hint of fear still quivering in the back of her throat. Her back was still hurting her, and her neck was warm and uncomforting.

"I just wanted to know…did you…did you feel anything just now? Like you were really ill or something?" he asked. He looked rather hopeful, as if he desperately wanted the answer to be 'yes'. His grey eyes bored into her own brown ones. Did he know what had happened? Did _he_ have something to do with it? They stood still for a moment, and then Hermione answered.

"Yes, I did. Why, did you feel it too?" she asked. His eyes widened.

"Yeah, it was horrible…Granger, has this happened before?" he asked her sternly, taking a step forwards. Part of Hermione didn't want to tell him about the nightmares, why she'd fainted the night before…but part of her knew that, if he'd felt as ill as she had, what was the harm in telling him it had happened to her as well?

"Granger?" he asked. Hermione hadn't answered for a few seconds – her mind was somewhere else. She brought her mind back to the subject in hand, and opened her mouth to speak.

"Granger, we need to talk," he said sharply, staring Hermione right in the eyes. It was making her rather uncomfortable standing there, with those great big grey orbs pounding into her. Why did he always make her feel daunted? He continued, "If this is happening to both of us, we need to tell somebody." He continued to stare at her.

"Since when have you been so concerned?" Hermione retorted, raising her eyebrows at him. Unfortunately, he chose to ignore this comment.

"Because I think it has something to do with my daughter," he said after a few seconds of silence.

"Your daughter? What has she got to do with this?" Hermione asked. She was confused. Anielle? What? What on earth would a four-month-old baby have to do with frightening nightmares shadowed by a figure in a hood and sudden outbursts of illness?

"I'm not sure yet, but I'm almost certain I'm right. I just need proof," he said, his eyes not moving even a mere millimetre from hers. Hermione was once again puzzled. Her brow furrowed with confusion, and Malfoy must have seen this because his next words were, "Let me explain. Only you mustn't tell anyone. No one knows about Anielle, or me…and her mother" his voice trailed off as he spoke those last three words. His expression was dark and serious. Hermione unfroze her furrowed brow and let herself be at ease. She didn't know what Malfoy would tell her, and her curiosity came back again. Maybe, this time, her questions would be answered. Maybe, she'd find out all the things she wanted to know about Anielle. As ridiculous as it may have sounded, Hermione thought that, in some way, Malfoy knew she was curious. They'd missed breakfast, and were five minutes late for their first class, but that didn't cross either of the two student's minds. Hermione breathed deeply.

"Ok, Malfoy. Tell me what I need to know," she said confidently. Malfoy was taken by surprise – he'd secretly half-hoped she wouldn't want to hear the story he'd been keeping bottled up inside him for the past fourteen months. More, even, now he thought back on it. But, maybe it was for the best. It did concern her, after all.

Hermione heard Anielle crying. She seemed to be in some kind of distress, her cries high-pitched and desperate. Sensing this, Malfoy went immediately to see to her. Hermione was left standing in her bedroom doorway. Would he tell her what was going on? She hoped he would.


	8. Three thick envelopes

Later that evening, not all was going well in the Head's dormitory. Hermione and Malfoy had been arguing on and off ever since they returned from Hogsmeade – bickering about who would take the first patrolling shift that night, arguing about whether Slytherin or Gryffindor would win the upcoming Quidditch match. Hermione was sick and tired of his arrogant manner. She would love nothing more than to show him that he wasn't the boss of her. But, not wanting to get into trouble by abusing her high position, she refrained from saying anything. Also, there was problem number two; Anielle. She'd been crying on and off all night, was restless, and wouldn't sleep, no matter how hard Malfoy tried to comfort her. Hermione was fed up. It was eight o'clock and she hadn't done any of her homework. She was worn out, and wanted to go to bed. Of course, he wouldn't let her drop off peacefully without another round of bickering. She'd thought it best not to start him off in the first place, but that hadn't helped her much anyway. It just made him worse.

The Hogsmeade trip was a miniature success. Hermione hadn't seen hide or hair of Malfoy since they left for the carriages, and neither did she bump into any of his stupid so-called 'friends'. She was glad of this, because it meant that she could stroll along the snowy streets of the village with Harry and Ron without having to expect some snide remark behind her back, or a sarcastic comment from Pansy Parkinson, number one suck-up to Draco Malfoy and total idiot. Who would take kindly to someone as low-down as she was? She had heard rumours from Lavender Brown and the Patil twins, the biggest gossips in Gryffindor house, that Pansy and Malfoy were going to get together – not that it bothered her, of course. What Malfoy did in his free time meant nothing to her. All Slytherins were idiots, with half a brain and no common sense. The thought made her smile to herself. The only thing that bothered her was his pompous attitude and selfish ways. He'd have to change, sharpish, or otherwise Hermione would report him to Professor McGonagall, and she would no longer tolerate living with him.

She wasn't in the mood for even more arguing. Hermione was sitting at the table, parchment, books and ink spread out all over the piece of majestic mahogany furniture. Her brow was furrowed. She was trying to concentrate on her Transfiguration essay, but the sound of Malfoy flicking the pages of the _Prophet_ he was reading was making it hard for her to focus. _Any minute now, I will kill him_, _I will kill him,_ she thought viciously, her tongue behind her back teeth, her expression angry and scowling. She looked over to where he was sitting, in one of the black leather armchairs by the fire. He didn't seem to be bothered by her presence. The red and orange flames cast wild shadows against the cream walls as they flickered back and forth, charred sticks of wood buried amongst burnt-out ashes in the bottom of the fire grate. He didn't look up when he heard her pack away her books. He was too busy reading an article in the centre fold of the newspaper, his nose stuck right inside the pages. Hermione pursed her lips.

She put her bag back on the floor and went over to the armchair where he was sitting. Summoning all the anger she could muster, she turned to look at him, hands on hips, and said,

"Well? Are you going to tell me what is going on or not?" she raised an eyebrow, folding her arms.

"If you're trying to act tough, Granger, you're not succeeding" he replied, not even looking up. Hermione was angry. How much would it take to budge his smug atmosphere away from him? She tried again.

"For God's sake, Malfoy. You're the one that's pathetic, not me," she snapped. She dared to take another step closer. This time, he closed his newspaper and folded it up, placing it on the arm of the chair.

"Fine. You win. But I must warn you, Mudblood…Pansy will be here after ten o'clock" he said smugly. So, he was going to score with a pug-faced prune tonight, right in front of her, was he? _Well, we'll see about that, Malfoy, _she thought. There was no way she was letting Pansy Parkinson in her dormitory – it was her living quarters too, and she had a right to stop anyone untoward coming in. Especially Pansy Parkinson. Or any of his gang of cronies, for that matter.

Just then, just as Malfoy opened his mouth to shoot another insult at her, Anielle started to cry. Her loud, desperate wails filled the room like police-car sirens. Hermione found herself cursing under her breath. _Why does she always yell at the top of her voice like that? Surely that can't be normal_ she thought. She thought many things, it crossed her mind. Malfoy let out a low groan, and then hurried up the stairs to Anielle. Then something came to Hermione. What if Pansy saw Anielle? What if she thought she was _their_ child? The very thought of it made her shudder. Her and Malfoy? Definitely not. They hated each other. _No such luck, Parkinson. He's all yours. I don't want anything to do with him, especially not in that way. I wouldn't do anything like that with him even if you paid me for it._

Hermione went back to the table. She dumped her bag on the tabletop, and started to rummage busily through it for her Potions assignment. It was due in on Monday, two days from now, and she'd only done half of it. It wasn't like her to leave work unfinished just days before the deadline. With all that was going on, she was startled to discover how much had slipped her mind. Pulling it out of her bag, something caught the corner of her right eye. Malfoy had knocked the newspaper off the arm of the chair when he got up in such a hurry. The paper lay face down, front and back covers splayed out on the carpet. Hermione could read the big black headline from where she was sitting; SEVERAL MORE DEATH EATERS SEIZED OUTSIDE LONDON – FUDGE TO CHARGE LATER TODAY. There was a picture of the captured offenders, around ten or so of them, all grouped together, followed by paragraphs and paragraphs of small, neat print. She recognised a couple of faces from the Department of Mysteries, but she couldn't remember their names. It wasn't the article Malfoy had been reading, though. If she squinted, she could just make out the date at the top of the paper. It was three months old. Many of the paper's pages lay askew amongst the covers, the corners tattered and curling. They looked as though they'd been well thumbed through. It wasn't that Hermione was looking at, either. It was what lay folded up inside them. The corners of these objects poked out from the back cover of the newspaper.

Three thick, yellow envelopes were just visible underneath the black and white pages. The parchment that made them looked expensive, and the corners of them were sharp and looked new. Hermione was attracted by the glistening ruby-red ink that was on the front. It was dry, of course, but it still glimmered in the dying firelight. The parchment looked new, but she was certain the contents of the envelopes were more than days old. She knew this because the parchment had yellowed at the corners, and some of the red ink was smudged slightly in places. She gave a nervous glance towards Malfoy's bedroom. There was no sound, and the door was firmly shut. Hesitantly, she crossed over to the chair, and picked up the three envelopes. The pages of the newspaper fluttered as she removed the envelopes, and the soft sound seemed eerily loud in the quiet common room. Hermione saw that all three envelopes bore the same address; Malfoy Manor. The writing was flowing and elegant, with round letters and exaggerated script. She wondered who would have written the things they contained inside. She turned the first one over, and saw that it had already been opened. The top of the envelope was torn neatly, probably done with an envelope-opener, or a knife. On second glance, she saw that all of them were like this. She wondered whether any of them still had their contents inside them.

Her hands shaking nervously, she went for the first envelope. The parchment was weighty in her palm, and thick. Whoever wrote this letter, or whatever it was, must have been able to afford fine, exquisite parchment. But who would write to Malfoy's house? What was he doing with them, anyway? She opened the envelope. Her eyes kept darting back and forth to the door of Malfoy's bedroom, just _waiting_ for him to open it and see her snooping through his things. Could you call it snooping? He had left the paper there, anyway. He hadn't picked it up. Holding her breath, her fingers reached into the torn seal, and she pulled out a sheet of flimsy, pale, cream-coloured paper.


	9. The Truth At Last

Hermione held her breath as she unfolded the piece of paper in her hands. The parchment was fairly new, yellow around the edges and crisp. Hermione's eyes kept darting to the door of Malfoy's bedroom, checking and re-checking constantly that it was still shut. She didn't know why – it was only a piece of paper. It probably wasn't even that important. So why did he carry these around with him? Hermione examined the folded parchment carefully before reading its contents. She saw that the St. Mungo's logo was stamped in the right hand corner, followed by an address and a fax number underneath. _It must be some kind of hospital document_, she thought, curious.

She scanned the information quickly, not really taking it in completely. The parchment might have been new, but the edges were worn and curling already. It looked as if someone had taken the great care of unfolding and reading it over and over, wearing down the edges and corners. Hermione read it more closely then, and saw that it was a birth certificate. She read on, and discovered the name Malfoy. Anielle Malfoy. This was Anielle's birth certificate. Well, that explained why Malfoy had kept it. Surely, he'd want to keep his daughter's birth certificate. Hermione felt silly for thinking it was something dreadful, serious, or even frightening. A letter for his father, perhaps, that he had stolen from the house. Something he shouldn't have taken. That was, until she read the rest of the information enclosed. Hermione's eyes widened to the size of saucers, her stomach jolted uneasily and her throat became dry. No. _No._ There had to be some mistake. How could this be?

Hermione's eyes avidly followed the lines of type printed in a large box in the centre of the page. Details about Anielle's birth…where she had been born (St. Mungo's), what time, and the date. However, it was what came next that gave Hermione such a shock. _**Name: Anielle Trinity Malfoy**_. Yes, that was right. _Ok, I didn't know Anielle had a middle name…but that's right, surely, _she thought. _**Place of Birth: St.Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies.**_ Yes, that sounded right too. Hermione read on. _**Time of Birth: 7:58 am**__**Date of Birth: 7**__**th**__** August. **_Hermione had no need to worry about that information. Why should she? Anyway, then came the part that she dreaded…_**Father: Draco Malfoy. Mother: Hermione Granger.**_ Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger. It was her name on the birth certificate.

Hermione couldn't believe it. She didn't want to believe it. That _ferret_ had written her name on Anielle's birth certificate! Was this some kind of joke? How could she _possibly_ Anielle's mother? She would have known, have remembered…it was absurd! She'd always thought Malfoy was selfish, arrogant, intimidating, pompous, haughty…but this, _this_ – this was something entirely different. How dare he pull a stunt like that on her! Wasn't this illegal? To fake birth details…that could lead to all kinds of trouble. She was furious. She didn't believe it…only there was a tiny part of her that was scared it might, in some way, be true. A tiny part of her, just a tiny part, wanted to believe it. Even though it wasn't in any way possible…

Right on time, the bedroom door opened and Malfoy came out. He was looking very smug and pleased with himself, which was usually not a good sign. His pale cheeks were flushed, and his grey eyes glittered in a way that seemed too 'not Malfoy-ish' to be true. A few things didn't look right, the silence wasn't helping either of them, and Hermione was about to explode with holding back so many questions. He looked at her crossly, even though she hadn't said anything. His eyes looked her up and down, slowly, and in a few seconds or more, those dark grey orbs had found the parchment in her hand. The parchment that would now lead him to tell her everything that had happened between the end of June and September 1st.

"What-do-you-think-you-are-doing?" Hermione said, slow, fierce, and angry. She was going to get the truth out of him, whether he liked it or not. His daughter was the reason Hermione was so behind on homework, the reason she'd be spending her Christmas in the school library this year…and she wouldn't tolerate it. Not one bit of it. She ought to know the truth. Malfoy looked blankly at her. He didn't know what she was talking about.

"I don't know what you mean," he said, his eyes not leaving her face. The apparent glitter in them had gone, and was replaced with a silvery-grey glimmer only visible under firelight.

"Yes, you do. I'm talking about a certain birth certificate, Malfoy. Anielle's birth certificate" she explained, her voice hard and mocking. Then she saw it. The pink flush disappeared from his face in an instant. He knew she'd found the paper. His eyes darkened, looking almost black in the shadow of the arch in front of the doorway. He sighed, passed a hand over his face, and then came down the stairs.

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"_What?!"_ Hermione exclaimed. She didn't believe it.

"I'm telling you, Granger. It's the truth," he said, for the millionth time during their conversation. What the birth certificate said had turned out to be true. She was Anielle's mother. She stared right into his grey eyes. In the dim light from the torches on the walls, they looked hazel and held a far-away, distant expression in them.

"But…it's impossible…I would have _known_…" she said, confused. The light from the fire was dying down, and it cast dark shadows up the cream walls and on the mahogany furniture.

"You wouldn't have known. Your memory was wiped clean of the whole thing after Anielle was born. The Dark Lord didn't want to carry any stories around of what happened," he explained.

They were both sitting on the sofa, as far away from each other as possible.

"You can choose not to believe me" he went on "but it'll still be true. I told you what happened. You wouldn't have known, because you were in another identity. It was a trap, you see. A trap for me. The Dark Lord wanted a child he could raise as a Death Eater slave…he wanted to use the child for his purposes, as he put it. His instructions were that the child must have non-magic ancestry. That meant, be connected to a non-magic family, but it would still have to be pureblood. Pureblood, but with Muggle ancestry.

"The Dark Lord wished to punish me for not obeying him…he gave instruction that I was to be the father of this child. He told my parents the details, everything they wanted to know. And he decided that he wanted you for the mother. Don't ask me why. He just did. And then he captured you. He imprisoned your mind, but kept your body for use in his plan. He used dark magic to change your identity, your appearance, everything about you. You were no longer Hermione Granger, the Mudblood bookworm. Instead, he controlled you under the identity of Jasmine Reid, pureblood witch, student of Beauxbatons Academy" he said.

"I still don't understand…why didn't I know anything about what was happening to me?" she asked him, worried. She wasn't sure this was entirely true, even though it was. She fiddled with a curl of brown hair, biting her lip nervously. Malfoy was sitting lazily in one corner of the sofa, his hair tousled and expression serious. In the brief silence between them, Hermione fully noticed how much he'd changed in appearance since the end of the previous year. He was taller by a couple of inches, his shoulders were wide, and his whole body had benefited from his Quidditch-playing. He was well exercised and strong, muscled and very toned. Hermione found herself staring at him with curiosity, her eyes focusing on him. Then he started speaking again.

"Your memory was wiped out. From the moment you were captured, your mind belonged to The Dark Lord. He controlled what you thought, and how you reacted. It was very dark magic – way beyond anything an average Death Eater could do. He used his magic to control your body, which was disguised as another girl. He made sure she met me, and that we got on. He controlled you, every word you said – that was him. Of course, I had no idea who you really were. If I had, I wouldn't have touched you with a barge pole to save my life" at that point, he shifted around to get more comfortable, looking at Hermione. He carried on, "and I fell for her – Jasmine – and we got together. It was all right, after a while…then it got serious and Jasmine told me she was going to have a baby – but it was you who was having the baby, not Jasmine. That was the whole idea of keeping your body in Jasmine's identity. I only found out the whole plan a week or so before Anielle was born. My mother told me everything, and I chose not to believe her. That was a mistake, though. My father proved it was true – he showed me the proof. I was disgusted – I'd fallen for someone who was actually a mudblood" he wrinkled his nose and grimaced, clearly showing her what he thought of her.

Hermione just sat there, not speaking. It was hard to believe. She'd been in someone else's identity while Voldermort controlled her mind, she'd had a baby without knowing it…it was all so confusing. However, seeing the look on Malfoy's face and in his eyes, she knew it was true. It had to be. There was truth in what he had told her.

"Anielle's our daughter," she whispered into the silence.

"Yes, she is" Malfoy replied, in a matter-of-fact one. "That's why I have to keep her away from everyone else. I don't want her used as The Dark Lord's slave. I don't want her to be raised like that" he said. He looked at her.

"I need you to help me look after her. I can't do it on my own, especially if The Dark Lord's controlling us…he's the one causing the illness, it means we have to look after her together or she's going to him. He'll capture her" he said. "I don't want her taken away from me. She's all I've got".


	10. Acceptance, and possibly understanding

Hermione felt tired, fed up and ill. Her head was aching, her eyes were sore from studying all evening, and, having just found out she had a daughter, she was not happy. She still didn't believe Malfoy, though. A part of her wanted to, and yet another, greater part of her, wanted to believe that none of it was true. Not one bit of it. Even though, now, it looked like she had no choice. Malfoy had said something about Voldermort controlling them, making them ill deliberately. He had said that only if they started working together to look after Anielle, would the illness stop. Hermione wasn't sure he was right about that either. She was confused, and wanted to know more.

She sat in one of the leather armchairs by the fire, watching the last flames dance amongst the ashes before dying out. Her mind was out of control with questions and thoughts. Some of them she dared not say aloud, just in case it sparked off another row, and that was something Hermione did not want under the circumstances. It was eleven o'clock, and Malfoy had long since gone to bed. Hermione was glad she did not have his presence around her. She wanted to be on her own, to think, to try to judge what had happened. Absent-mindedly, she reached up and played with a curl of her hair. It often helped her concentrate during thinking. It wasn't doing much help tonight, though. She wasn't getting anywhere. Everything was quiet, except for the faint crackling of the low-burning fire spitting its last orange sparks onto the charred snakes of wood buried in the base of the grate. Soon, Hermione began to feel sleepy. It was warm in the room, and the silence made Hermione relaxed. Her head rested to one side of the armchair. Her eyes closed, and she entered another nightmare.

"It seems the young Malfoy boy has succeeded in our intentions…good, very good" snarled a cold, threatening voice in the darkness. "In no fewer than nine months, I shall have a child I can use for my own needs, for something I have wanted for so long now…" the voice carried on. "Your son will not know a single difference, Lucius. My plan is working just perfectly". Footsteps sounded in the empty blackness. A man came forward, and knelt in front of a dark wooden chair. Sitting in it, was another man, with skin as grey as an eel and red, glinting eyes.

"_I will not disappoint you, My Lord. I will ensure that no one finds out of the real identity of Miss Reid, and meanwhile I will keep watch over my son. It is, of course, in my best interests that he…does not know" Lucuis Malfoy spoke, his tone one of preciseness and worship. The man in the high-backed chair chuckled cruelly to himself, his eyes not leaving Lucius. _

It stopped there, and Hermione heard no more of their conversation. For there, the dream changed into something far more sinister.

She woke up, rubbing her eyes. A pale morning light shone through a tiny window in the stone high up in the wall. The dingy cell where she was imprisoned was damp, dark, and frightening. Moisture dripped sickeningly down the walls day after day, and the stone floor hard and rough. It was hardly a hospitable environment, but she wasn't about to care. The man that patrolled her cell at night, who came in to 'visit' her, who injured her and assaulted her for no apparent reason clear to her…he, he was more frightening that this bare room.

_She heard the rattle of keys and the scrape of a lock. This time, she could see the figure more clearly. A man, cloaked from head to foot in black, was standing in front of the cell gate. He smiled a false smile, and slurred, "Wake up, now. The Dark Lord wishes to see you, and he don't like waiting. Now, stand up!" A hand reached out from under a black sleeve and grasped the padlock on the gate. A rusty iron key clicked loudly, and the gate swung open. The man stood in the empty gateway, the false smile still on his face. She tried to stand up, but her energy failed her. _

"_Get up! Get up, you silly girl!" the voice roared, and she shook involuntarily with fear. The loud bark of the man, the false white smile, the slate-grey skin of his fingers…she could not move. She would not move. The man angered more, and in no fewer than three seconds, he was across the stone floor of the cell and wrenching her up by her arm, tugging on her fiercely. His fingers dug into her skin hard, and her eyes watered with pain. He threw her past the gate, causing her to stumble. With a loud __**clang**__the gate banged shut behind them as he dragged her away, pulling her wrists behind her back._

Hermione's eyes snapped open, her breathing heavy. She coughed once or twice, her head spinning. Tonight, she had witnessed two nightmares. The conversation between Lucius and his master, and another where she was trapped in a dark cell with only a Death Eater for company, a man who beat her black and scared her to within an inch of her life. Funnily enough, though, she didn't feel any symptoms this time. No nausea, no dizziness. She had a headache, but that wasn't because of the nightmare. She looked around. The light in the common room was very dim, and the fire had gone out. She noticed her spell books and parchment piled on the table, and a stack of exercise papers next to them. She sighed, and went over to keep them in her bag. Just then, Anielle started crying. Like the two previous times, her wails were loud and desperate, as if crying for help. Hermione chose to ignore her cries. It seemed wicked to do such a thing, but she knew she had to. Anielle might be her daughter, but she didn't want Malfoy to think she was foolish.

Five minutes later, Anielle was still crying. Hermione was putting on her pyjamas and dressing gown, checking her hair hastily in a pocket mirror on her bedside table. Malfoy hadn't gone to see to her. _I wonder why…_she thought, pulling a brush through her hair and slipping her feet into her slippers. Anielle was crying hard now, upset that her father hadn't come to comfort her. Her wails filled Hermione's head and drummed in her ears, making her headache worse. She turned towards the door of her bedroom, and started walking towards it. She knew what she had to do, even if it meant admitting that she was willing to accept Anielle as her child despite the consequences. She trod quietly to Malfoy's bedroom door. She knocked, but no answer came. _He must be asleep. On the other hand, maybe I shouldn't disturb him._ She thought as she stood in front of the door, biting her thumbnail. Reluctantly, she eased open the door. It wasn't entirely shut; so, she was able to push it open easily. Self-consciously, she stepped into the room.

Malfoy wasn't in his bed. The covers were pulled back, exposing the white sheet underneath. He was nowhere to be seen. In the far corner of the room, opposite his bed, was a cot. Even from here, Hermione could see that Anielle was crying fit to burst. Putting all other things aside, she walked over to Anielle's cot. She was lying on her back, looking up at the ceiling. Tears were dripping down her porcelain cheeks, and she was whining ever so loudly. Hermione bent over the side of the cot, and took a good look at her daughter. She gazed at her blue-grey eyes, her rosy cheeks and her red, red lips. She took in her matted, blonde hair and her tiny hands and feet. How could she be a Granger? She looked just like a Malfoy. More like a Malfoy that anyone else. Hermione's heart pounded, but she didn't know why. Soon enough, her motherly instinct took over.

Glancing round, she leant over the cot and wiped away Anielle's tears with her forefinger. Her skin was soft, so soft, and smooth to the touch. It made her feel good, doing this. It made her feel proud, that she was doing something that she wouldn't regret. Gaining more confidence, she slid her hands under Anielle's body and picked her up. She wasn't that heavy, and at one moment Hermione wasn't sure what she should do. She cradled Anielle gently to her chest. She'd stopped crying so much; almost she wasn't making an entire sound. Hermione held her firmly, so her head was leaning against her shoulder. Hermione's heart raced faster than it had ever done before. Her whole body shook, her head was numb…she didn't realise how much a baby could change the way you felt.

Hermione put her head against Anielle's, their foreheads just touching. It was an amazing feeling. A few weeks ago, if someone had told Hermione that she would be feeling like this about Draco Malfoy's child, she would have laughed. Now, she couldn't help but feel happy. Malfoy or not; Anielle was her child. She ought to take care of her, as any mother should. Hermione tightened her grip. Her eyes became watery, and they glazed over. She blinked, and several tears fell down her cheeks. She didn't know what it was that made her cry like that. Maybe it was fate, maybe it was her instinct. On the other hand, maybe, it was the fact that Anielle was now an important part of her life as well as her father's. She heard footsteps behind her, and a door closing.

She quickly wiped away a tear on her face. She turned around, and saw Malfoy standing nearby. He was very pale, and his eyes were blank.

"Granger, were you crying?" he asked weakly, his voice feeble.

"Yes, I was. It was Anielle…I just welled up…I'm sorry; I shouldn't have come to her…" she mumbled, drying her eyes with the back of her hand. She was still holding Anielle to her hip, and she was clinging to her dressing gown like a little monkey. Malfoy half-smiled weakly, then groaned. He put a hand to his stomach, and sat down on the end of the bed.

"Granger, would you mind…just looking after Anielle for me…just for tonight…please…" he turned to look at her. He was bent double, his skin grey. Hermione went over to him, and stood on the corner of the bed.

"Ok. Ok, just for tonight. No other time, Malfoy. Just tonight" she said. Her voice was determined. Malfoy had wrapped his arms around his stomach, and was biting his lip hard.

"Granger…?" he started to ask, then trailed off mid-sentence. He couldn't speak. He felt sick; he had done ever since he went to bed. A few moments later, he blinked slowly. He looked up at Hermione, who was scanning the room. He coughed violently, the pain in his stomach worsening. Hermione sat down on the corner of the bed.

"Are you alright?" she asked him.

"No…" was the feeble reply she was given. She was holding Anielle in her arms still. Just then, Malfoy turned to her.

"I need you to help me…I have something that has to be done, but I'm struggling…you're the only person I trust" he said.

"What is it, then? Only if you're planning to kill someone, leave me out of it, Ferret" she snapped those last words, glaring at him scornfully.

"I need you to help me keep Anielle safe," he said. With that, his legs gave way and collapsed heavily to the floor.


	11. Thankyou

She had been sitting in the hospital wing for hours on end. It was two o'clock in the morning, and she was uncomfortable and very sleep-deprived. Her legs were aching, and her feet were sore. Four hours she'd been sitting there, in the same chair, getting up only a few times to use the toilet. Madame Pomfrey should have let her go by now. She wanted to sleep. Her head was pounding furiously. The only thing that kept her going was the baby in her arms. Anielle was fast asleep, and Hermione didn't dare move an inch in case she woke up. She'd been sleeping for quite some time, having just nodded off moments before they reached the hospital wing. Hermione had had to take Malfoy there after he collapsed, as much as she hated to do so. Oh, how she would have loved to leave him there, take Anielle back to her own bedroom and put her to sleep, then go to bed herself. It would be her way of getting payback on him for landing Anielle in her life in such a short space of time. Since Hermione found out Anielle was her own daughter, she'd come considerably close to the four-month-old baby. She still had no recollection of her conception or birth whatsoever, only the things Malfoy had so reluctantly told her during the night. Now, under the bright hospital lights and the heat of the torches on the walls, she felt that she could think about what she was going to do in silence, in her own mind. No one had to know what she was thinking.

Just then, Anielle stirred softly within her mother's arms. Hermione held her close to her body, her hands supporting her firmly. Anielle blinked a few times, and looked around. She wasn't used to such bright light, and it must have startled her because almost immediately her eyes watered and she started to cry.

"Shh, darling. You'll wake your dad, love," she whispered, rocking her gently. She reached out a finger and Anielle held it tight in her tiny baby fist. Hermione stared right into her enormous blue-grey eyes, and felt her heart racing with overwhelming feelings she hadn't ever felt before. It was new; it was different, and frightening. Hermione knew she was doing the right thing by looking after her, and she knew that it didn't mean that her and Malfoy had to start getting on with each other. Just because two people have a baby, it doesn't mean they particularly have to _like_ each other in order to look after their child, did it? She thought not. There was a muffled yawn, and Hermione turned round to see that Malfoy had woken up.

He saw Hermione immediately, and forced himself not to smirk at her. One; he didn't feel like it, and two; he didn't want to. When he saw Anielle in her arms, he couldn't do anything accept smile weakly to himself, and hope she hadn't noticed.

"How are you?" Hermione made herself ask. Her hands were preoccupied with Anielle, stroking her blonde hair lovingly and allowing the infant to take hold of her fingers. It was a good feeling.

"I'm OK, I think," came his reply. He breathed out slowly, sitting up in his hospital bed. There were faint dark circles under his eyes, and he was paler than normal, but other than that, there was nothing significantly noticeable about his appearance. Hermione gave him a hesitant smile, which he took a few moments to return. Hermione was surprised at first, because she hadn't expected him to return her smile. Nevertheless, he did, showing off a row of very white, even teeth. Hermione had to admit; she was ever so slightly impressed.

"Can I hold her now?" he asked, gesturing his blonde head towards Anielle. Hermione nodded, not saying anything, and handed her over.

As the weight was lifted from her arms, Hermione felt unusually empty. Maybe it was her maternal, post-baby hormones running around her body. She knew that would happen for a while, because she was a new mother. If so, they were running around like wildfire. It was strange she hadn't felt anything sooner, though. But never mind that. She'd felt so safe, so attached when she was holding Anielle and now she felt nothing. It was strange, really. _I wish I could have held her for longer than that_ she thought, as she watched Malfoy take her in his arms and kiss her forehead. She felt a pluck of longing in her heart, the wish to keep her by her side. She found it hard to believe that, a few weeks ago, she was totally against Anielle. She felt quite different now, obviously. Her mothering instinct was at it strongest, and she knew that Anielle needed her. She'd need both her parents if she had to be kept away from Voldermort and his Death Eaters. No matter how much she hated Malfoy, they both shared the same concern for their daughter. Maybe, just maybe, in some ways, they weren't so different as they made out they were. So what if Hermione chose books over pleasure? Did it really mean anything that Malfoy came from a very rich wizard family and she did not? Did they really _believe_ that they were different just because of who their parents were, and what school house they were in?

Hermione was lost in a daze of thought, her mind spiralling to all corners of her many theories. She examined every tiny detail, every nook and cranny of what she'd been told, and found nothing that got her any closer to the answer she was looking for. The answer to the question; If she and Malfoy hated each other so much, how come they were looking after a child together? So many questions she'd never thought of before came to mind, seeing Malfoy cradling Anielle so happily. She'd felt like that when she'd held her – so much love, caring feelings had come rushing to her the moment Anielle was in her arms. She knew what he was feeling, what he was going through. _Wait a minute, am I actually sympathising with Draco Malfoy? _Her mind asked her. She decided not to answer that question, and think elsewhere. Perhaps she had ended up with a daughter of her own fate. She'd always wanted a family, and now she had a baby of her own. She hadn't expected to become a mother at this age, though – still, who was she to complain? She had a beautiful baby girl, and she didn't give a monkeys about who her father was. For once, she felt at home.

No one had spoken in ten minutes. The only noise to be heard was the tinkering of bottles and jars, from where Madame Pomfrey was sorting through potions and remedies in the far corner of the hospital. The silence was calming, if disturbing. She'd half-hoped Malfoy would say something; tell her something else about what happened to her, anything. No words had come thought, and she was slightly disappointed. She'd thought that someone like Malfoy would have had something to say. Just as she was thinking this, his cool, calm voice cut through the lulling quiet.

"Granger…?" he said, turning to look at her. He shifted in his bed, holding Anielle with one hand while he pulled the sheets more closely around him with the other. Hermione looked at him. His dark, blue-grey eyes were rather hypnotising under the light, and Hermione was almost sidetracked by the swirls of colour in them - hazel, black, even white.

"Yes, what do you want?" she said, trying to sound as if she didn't really care. It was difficult, though, because she _did_ care. She decided to listen to him more, because sometimes, what he said could actually make some sense to Hermione, and wasn't insulting either.

"I'd – I'd just like to thank you, for looking after Anielle for me. I really appreciate it. Thanks" he said, nervously, wondering whether he'd said the right thing. Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her chair, fiddling with her hands. Then, she looked him in the eyes, and said,

"No problem, no problem at all". She even smiled at him.

Because there really wasn't a problem this time. Hermione was perfectly OK with everything.


	12. Civility

The next few days passed without any hassle. At least, not from Malfoy. He'd put his illness down to Voldermort's doing, as he explained on Tuesday night when they were both sitting in the Common Room. He'd put Anielle to bed, and everything was rather quiet. He didn't say much to Hermione throughout the week, just the occasional nod and a 'hello'. Hermione knew it was to hide the fact that they were actually being civil to each other for once, but even that was only for Anielle's sake. _Poor Anielle_, she thought on Wednesday morning, when the idea came to her. _She doesn't know anything about this_. She pulled on her grey school sweater and black tights, and went to join Harry and Ron for breakfast in the Great Hall.

It was fairly busy inside, groups of students chattering heartily, a few others bent over their schoolbooks, catching up on work at the last minute. _A bit like Harry and Ron_, she thought. _Always do everything the last minute_. Mind you, that was slightly hypocritical to her, as she hadn't exactly been on top of things either these last few days. With everything going on with Malfoy and Anielle, she hadn't had much time for homework. The Great Hall was lively, strings of tinsel pinned from corner to corner all around the room. The enormous Great Hall Christmas tree stood up proudly in a far corner of the room behind the staff's table, adorning glowing jewels in gold, red and silver. Hermione noticed that Harry and Ron had succeeded in using a Permanent Sticking charm on all the baubles, as tiny Professor Flitwick was having trouble adjusting some tinsel, which was wrapped around the tree. Hermione smiled to herself, and went over to join Harry and Ron.

They both grinned at her as she sat down opposite them.

"Where've you been these last few days? We've hardly seen you" Ron pointed out, taking a drink from his goblet and munching on a bacon sandwich.

"Yes, well, I've been busy, Head duties and all that" she explained, regrettably quickly. She reached over for some toast and took a bite. Chewing thoughtfully, she said, "I know I haven't been around lately, I'm sorry about that. It's just I've had many things going on". Ron looked at her, his brow furrowed. She knew what was coming next.

"What things?" he asked her. She just looked at him for a few moments, and then started to say something. She changed her mind, and shook her head, frustrated. Then, she thought _no. I will not let anything get in the way of me having fun with Harry and Ron. I can look after Anielle with Malfoy, and still have fun with my friends_. She knew she was right, though she had trouble admitting it, even to herself.

"How's things with the Ferret?" Ron asked suddenly, looking at Hermione. She was miles away with her thoughts, and didn't hear him at first.

"Hermione? Ron's talking to you" Harry cut in, and waved a hand in front of her face.

"Oh, you mean Malfoy? Oh, it's ok. There hasn't been any trouble at all, in fact. He hasn't said much to me," she said, smiling. At that very moment, the Great Hall doors opened and Malfoy walked in, closely followed by Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. They went and sat down at their usual seats on the Slytherin table, not taking any notice of anyone around them. Hermione was shortly distracted, and she found herself looking in Malfoy's direction. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught Hermione looking at him. For a few seconds, their gazes met, but Malfoy soon looked away and began talking to Pansy Parkinson, who blushed like a little girl. Hermione scowled. Pansy could be so childish, especially around Malfoy.

"Really? No trouble at all?" Ron asked in disbelief. "Blimey, things _are_ different around here" he added, looking around. Hermione looked at him, seeing the surprise in his eyes.

"How do you mean?" she inquired, puzzled. She took a sip of pumpkin juice from her goblet. Ron took a few moments to answer her question.

"Well, for a start, McGonagall hasn't given us as much homework as she usually does. And, just a few days ago, Padma Patil asked me out! I thought she didn't even like me!" Ron exclaimed, his eyes glittering wildly. Padma Patil had gone to the Yule Ball with Ron during their fourth year, but hadn't thought much of him. Hermione was surprised to hear this, but made no comment.

"Yeah, well he's not the only one" Harry chipped in, grinning. "I finally got Ginny to go out with me!" Harry looked nervously at Ron, who just shrugged and turned back to his breakfast.

"That's great, Harry. So, are you going to Hogsmeade with her next weekend?" Hermione asked. Harry went slightly pink, and mumbled a 'yes' in an embarrassed tone. Hermione smiled, and then drained her juice from her goblet. "Come on, that's the bell. We'd better go," she said, finishing off her toast and standing up.

"But I haven't even finished!" Ron protested, and that made Harry and Hermione both laugh.

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Classes were a breeze. For once, Snape hadn't set them homework, and Hermione could breathe easy through all of her lessons. During Transfiguration, though - their last class of the day - she caught Malfoy's gaze again, and got a certain uneasy feeling. She knew things were tight between them, and that they could never actually be proper _friends_, but the feeling came all the same. Hermione decided not to worry about it though, and set her mind to the task in hand. They were transfiguring mice into other animals, and Hermione was, peculiarly, having difficulty with hers. It wasn't the first time, either. The subject the previous week had been transfiguring cushions into ornaments, and hers always seemed to contain duck feathers.

Back in the Head's Common Room, Hermione found Malfoy and Pansy sitting on the sofa, talking avidly. Pansy was blushing furiously, and he was laughing. They were disturbingly close, and if Pansy moved a couple of inches to the right, she'd be sitting on _top_ of him, or possibly she'd be _lying_ across his chest. Hermione wrinkled her nose at the thought, and went upstairs. On shutting the door tight behind her, she crossed over to her bed, and found a note sticking out from under her pillow. Her brow furrowed slightly, but she pulled it out from the plump white pillows and looked it over. It was only a piece of parchment folded in half, with her name on the front in handwriting she didn't recognise well. Curious, she sat cross-legged on her bed and opened it up. It said;

Granger – 

_Thanks for everything, and for not telling anyone about our daughter._

_From_

_DM_

That was it. A short, one-line note from Malfoy. He must have left it there for her while she was in the library. And he actually _thanked_ her. Well, he had done a few days ago, but in writing, it sounded far more impressive, especially coming from a Malfoy. Hermione leaned over and put the note on the bedside table, out of sight underneath her water jug. Lying back on her bed, she reflected on all the things that had happened in the past three or so days – from finding Anielle's birth certificate, becoming a mother, the feeling she had when she held her…it was clear as crystal to her. The feeling of her tiny hands on her dressing gown, the look in her eyes. Her own brown eyes misted over with the memory, and she quickly wiped the tears away with her sleeve. A couple of minutes later, her bedroom door opened and Malfoy came in.

"You got my message?" he asked. Hermione nodded, and sat up.

"Yeah, I did. Malfoy…?" she began. She turned to face him, her legs crossed again.

"Yes, Granger?" he said, his eyes not leaving hers. Hermione was slightly intimidated by this, but didn't let it get to her. Instead, she said what she was going to say.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked, curious. She wasn't implying that she didn't _like_ his niceness; she was just curious why he was doing it. He sighed, and took a step forward.

"For Anielle's sake" he replied. "I don't want anything to happen to her, you see. I _can't_ let anything happen to her". He looked at the floor, fiddling with his hands. He was unsure of what to say next, but Hermione resolved that problem.

"I know you care about her. It's a bit obvious, you know," she said. Malfoy laughed faintly under his breath.

"Well, anyway…goodnight, Granger" he said, with a curt nod. Then, he turned on his heel and left. Hermione dropped her gaze to the carpet underneath her feet. Was he trying to make friends? No, he wasn't. So what was he doing? Hermione didn't know. There were lots of possible answers to that question. Or maybe it was just civility.


	13. The Plan of Heartbreak

The run up to Christmas Eve dawned just a few days later, and overnight Hogwarts had turned into a festive palace for the season. Everywhere, there was holly and ivy strung from corner to corner, Christmas trees stood proudly on every floor, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves – even Hermione, despite everything that had happened during the previous week. Her mood was considerably lightened, and she found herself spending more and more time outside with Harry and Ron rather than in the library reading or doing homework. It felt good to be outside in the snow, laughing and joking with her friends. She could forget all about Malfoy and Anielle for now. That would all come later on, after the holiday season had passed.

Hermione, Harry and Ron were walking back from visiting Hagrid's, their footsteps leaving three clear tracks in the snow behind them. The air was bitterly cold, and light flakes of snow had started to fall, but the icy weather didn't frost their spirits.

"Mum and dad are going to visit Charlie in Romania again," Ron said, grinning. "Which means they won't be in the house over Christmas". He nudged Harry and they both grinned wickedly. What was it with boys? Was causing as much mayhem as possible their only goal?

"Are they? I thought you were going with them" Hermione said, leaning in front of Harry to talk to Ron. He shrugged, and then said, "I don't know. One minute they say I'm going with them, the next they don't _want_ me to go" he raised his eyebrows. "Mum and dad are a mystery to me".

"Don't worry about it, Ron. Still, are you going to invite Padma to your house over Christmas?" Harry asked, and Hermione sighed again. _Here we go, _she thought. _They're going to start talking about girls and totally ignore me. Still, it's nothing new, is it?_

Hermione continued to walk in silence alongside the two boys as they talked, completely oblivious to her presence. She didn't mind, though. She was used to this – whenever they got started on a subject not relevant to her, or a subject they considered not to be relevant to her, they immediately cut her out of the picture. It was the same with anything; Quidditch, Hogsmeade, girls, etc. Hermione took her chance to think about things, the things that had bothered her before but weren't worth thinking about. Things that weren't important to her then, but were now. Why was she having these nightmares? What were they? What did they mean? The most recent nightmare hadn't been much of a _dream_, as such, but more of a _vision_. It was something that had already happened, and it was being played back to her like a video on rewind. She wondered what it was about. Why had her mind shown her that particular conversation? What relevance did it have to her own life? She knew now, it was out in the open. She knew Anielle was her daughter, she knew what had happened to her. So why was she being shown these incidents? Would it help her _understand_ what had happened? Not as far as she knew. Would it be of any use to her? No, not that she could think of. It was a baffling situation, one that would probably end up in her having to talk to Malfoy about it – and that was something she wasn't looking forward to doing.

The bell rang in the distance, and the three of them quickened their pace so as not to arrive late to class. It was the last day of lessons before Christmas, and someway or another Harry and Ron had almost been as keen as her on schoolwork, probably as not to end up with a mountain of homework over the holidays. As they ran up the snowy hill that climbed towards the castle, Hermione was still no closer to getting the answers she hoped for. Maybe Malfoy would answer them for her. She'd have to ask him _sometime_. They couldn't keep at each other's throats forever, especially now with Anielle to look after. The three of them panted their way up the main hall and broke off up a flight of stairs to the right for Transfiguration. Hermione pulled off her gloves and scarf, putting them in the inside pocket of her robes for safekeeping. Just then, someone called her name.

"Granger! Granger!" the voice hissed loudly. Hermione spun round, and found herself face to face with Pansy Parkinson. Her brow was furrowed, her nose wrinkled, and she didn't look happy.

"What do you want, Pansy?" Hermione snapped, irritated that she was keeping her behind. From the look in her wicked black eyes, she wasn't pleased with Hermione's reply.

"You, don't you go anywhere near Draco" she warned, her black eyes boring into Hermione tediously.

"I'm never near him, Pansy. Unlike you, you're practically a human limpet" she answered, folding her arms. This just angered Pansy more, and she huffed angrily.

"Listen, Mudblood. If I hear you've been _trying anything on_ with him, rest assured I will make you pay for it" she snarled in what she thought was a threatening way. To Hermione, it sounded just like a drunk lion attempting to roar. Hermione stared her down, frowning.

"Well, rest assured that _I _haven't been doing anything with your Ferret. Ok? Now, if you don't mind, I want to get to my class" Hermione said curtly, turning on her heel to leave and make her way up the flight of stone steps. She left Pansy standing at the bottom, outnumbered in wit by her Muggle-born archenemy. _Well, Pansy, you have nothing to lose. I would never touch _him _with a twenty-foot-long stick even if he were the last person on earth_.

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Hermione sat down in her favourite armchair by the fire in the Head's Common Room. She was already starting to feel at home here, even though it had only been her quarters for less than a week or so. She turned her gaze to the blazing December fire in front of her, and watched the flames contentedly as the time ticked by on the clock above the mantelpiece. It was half-past five, and Hermione had just come in from an hour-long study session in the library. Studying exhausted her, and she passed a hand over her face as she sat there silently. No sound was to be heard, except the ticking of the clock and the crackle of the wood in the fire grate. This was just how Hermione liked it – peaceful, quiet, no sound at all. It was the perfect thinking atmosphere, though Hermione wasn't in the mood for thinking.

Just then, Anielle woke up from her late-afternoon sleep and started to cry. Knowing that Malfoy wasn't back from Quidditch practice yet, Hermione got up, yawning, to see to her. She went up to Malfoy's bedroom, and walked across the room to where Anielle was. Even from a distance, she could see she was attempting unsuccessfully to stand up, tears falling down her porcelain cheeks. Hermione bent over the cot and picked her up, holding her close to her chest. She gently rubbed her back soothingly to ease her crying, and in a few moments, she was silent, making soft sounds into Hermione's neck. Hermione went over to Malfoy's bed and sat down on the corner of it. She held Anielle close to her body, stroking her hair and silently looking around the room. Hermione didn't want to let her daughter go. She felt so at home, she never wanted to loosen her grip on Anielle and put her back in her cot. She yawned again, and blinked slowly. Walking across the room, she kissed Anielle on her forehead and put her back in her cot. Then she returned to the bed and sat down again.

Out of the blue, as if an invisible tape recorder were playing inside her head, her vision and mind went blank and she could see nothing but the inside blackness of her mind. She was having another dream.

_The room had changed. Instead of the dark, dimly lit spare room, there was a large space with a blazing fire and a cream rug on the bare floorboards. The high-backed throne was still there, though, as well as the red-eyed man who sat in it before. In front of him, was the hooded black figure of Lucius Malfoy. _

"_How is our little plan going?" Lord Voldermort inquired, tapping the arm of his chair lightly with long, grey fingers. Lucius Malfoy chuckled sneeringly to himself. _

"_Well, my Lord. He still does not know a thing, even after seven months time. There is not long now until my son's unborn child is brought into the world, and then I shall take the infant for myself" he explained, his voice a slow, snarling drawl. Lord Voldermort spoke again._

"_And the girl?" he asked, his red eyes glinting in the flames of the fire. "Is she doing well?" he looked at Lucius then, breathing slowly through his snake-like nose. _

"_The girl is fine, everything is fine. Draco will be told of our secret a week before the birth, and shortly after then will Miss Reid's identity be unmasked. Everything is running like clockwork, my Lord. The girl's memory has been wiped clean, she does not know a thing of our…plan of heartbreak" his lips curled into a menacing smile. Lord Voldermort leaned back in the throne-like chair. _

"_Yes…the boy's little heart will be broken soon enough. That will teach him not to disobey me…" a cruel laughter rang out in the room, and the image faded. _

Hermione's eyes snapped open. She didn't believe it. The whole idea was a set-up! Not only for their daughter, but for Malfoy as well! Hermione found it difficult to overcome. This explained everything – the reason for Malfoy's concern, the fact that he hid Anielle from his father…it answered many of the questions that Hermione had previously thought of. It explained a lot. Lord Voldermort wanted Malfoy to pay for not following his orders, so he used the fact that he wanted a child to make him pay, by breaking his heart and leaving him with nothing! This explained so much, and Hermione now found herself pleased and smiling to herself. There was one thing, though – she mustn't tell Malfoy any of this.


	14. He Might Have a Heart After All

In the twenty-four hours that followed her second vision, Hermione had considered telling several different people about the images she was being shown in her mind. Her first choice of course was Malfoy himself, because what she'd been shown was about him to start with. On second thought, she considered telling Professor McGonagall, but then realised she'd probably have to explain everything about Anielle and so on, and she didn't want to get into trouble with Malfoy for it. She didn't like the idea of getting a telling-off from him because she'd told someone about their daughter. He was very protective of Anielle and would probably have the heart to hurt anyone who tried to harm her in anyway – hence the reason he was keeping her with him in Hogwarts and not at home with his parents. To some extent, Hermione shared that concern. She too didn't want anything to happen to Anielle, but she wasn't going to tell _him_ that. She didn't want him thinking that she was _along the same lines_ as him in anything.

Hermione woke up on Christmas Day to the sound of someone banging on her bedroom door.

"Granger! Oi, Granger! Get up!" Malfoy yelled at her through the door. Hermione groaned, feeling groggy. Her head was hurting and she wanted to sleep. But, of course, there would always be someone who wanted to disturb her. Right now, that someone was Draco Malfoy.

"Granger!" he called again "No one gets up this late at Christmas!" It was then that Hermione noticed why it was so light in her room. Pulling the duvet down from her neck and stretching out slightly, she leaned over to check the clock on her bedside table. He was right. It was ten past nine. She must have slept through her alarm, which she had set for half past six that morning. _Typical, _she thought. _I slept through the alarm and now I have the Ferret yelling at me to get up_. Sighing, she crawled out of bed and pulled on her dressing down.

With a flourish, she opened her bedroom door to find Malfoy standing there, fully dressed, and smirking for England. Hermione was not impressed, and she pushed past him to the bathroom they both shared without saying a word. Quickly, she cleaned her teeth and tugged her corkscrew curls into submission. On leaving the bathroom, she saw that Malfoy was still standing by her bedroom door, still smirking and looking very smug. Hermione glared at him, but he didn't move.

"Malfoy! If you don't mind, I'm _going_ in there to change" she said, gesturing towards her open door to the bedroom.

"Maybe I want to stay," he answered, shrugging his shoulders and putting his hands in his pockets. _Urgh, you sick pig!_ Hermione thought as she walked towards him, turning swiftly on her heel and going into her bedroom. Her hand on the doorknob, she said, "Well, I don't _want_ you to stay". With that, she shut the door in his face.

She leaned against the back of the door, feeling rather proud of herself. Oh, how she loved to harass Malfoy! Ron and Harry were definitely going to hear about this. And, speaking of Ron and Harry, Hermione crossed the room and rooted in her trunk for their Christmas presents. Setting them on the nearby chest of drawers, she went over to her bed and started getting changed. She pulled on a pale-blue sweater and bleached jeans, and her black jacket over the top. It was cold outside, and Hermione was prone to colds during the winter months, especially in December. Grabbing her bag from under her desk, she put the Christmas presents into it and went out of the door.

When she got downstairs, she saw that Malfoy was lighting the fire in front of the sofa. Anielle was next to him, strapped into her carry got and wide awake. He stood up, saw Hermione, and gave her a sarcastic smile and wave. Then, he bent down to pick Anielle up and walked past the armchair nearest to Hermione. He glared at her, his dark grey eyes cold and hard. This didn't bother Hermione, though – it was so likely of Malfoy she hardly considered it to be worth bothering about. Hermione walked past him and out of the door, down the two flights of steps and out along the Entrance Hall. Harry and Ron met her with grinning faces at the end of the corridor. Her headache cleared immediately, and she felt a lot happier.

"Hi, Hermione!" Ron said, "Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas, Ron. What's up with you?" she asked, her brow furrowed. Ron wasn't usually _this_ excited to see her, even when he'd had one too many Butterbeers from the elves in the kitchen. Hermione found herself laughing inside her head at the thought.

"I'm going out with Padma tonight" he said happily. "We're going to Hogsmeade. I heard there was a Christmas Filibuster's Firework display there, so I'm that's where I'm taking her. What about you?"

"Oh, I think I'll just be staying in tonight. I have a lot of work to do, so-" she started, but was cut off by Harry.

"Work! Hermione, it's Christmas! Loosen up, will you?" he exclaimed, sighing dramatically.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the pair of them, then delved into her schoolbag and pulled out the two Christmas presents, one wrapped in gold and the other in bronze.

"Here you are then," she said. "These are for you. Happy Christmas!" she said, handing them over. They took them smiling from ear to ear, saying, "Thanks, Hermione". They pocketed their gifts, and nodded towards the main doors.

"Come on" Ron said. "Let's go for a walk, see Hagrid, I bet he'll be waiting for us". The three of them turned left and walked out of the big, solid oak main doors and into the grounds. Hermione was definitely going to have fun this Christmas, with those two around. She always did.

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Hermione got back to the Head's Common Room at around four o'clock, her face scarlet from the cold, her knuckles purple and her lips blue. Her hair was hanging in rat's tails on her shoulders, and her nose was dripping. She wiped it quickly with the sleeve of her jacket. Malfoy was sitting in the armchair again, Anielle on his lap. His whole expression had changed – the iciness that had been there earlier was gone, and was replaced with something more quiet, more mellow. Perhaps it had something to do with Anielle, perhaps not. He looked up when she came over and sat on the sofa, but she didn't turn to face him. Instead, she watched the fire burn in the grate. She'd been doing that a lot lately. Malfoy hitched Anielle up onto his hip and held her tight. She clung onto his clothes like she had done to Hermione, and she suddenly felt a huge rush of maternal feelings towards Anielle. She wanted to hold her; she didn't want Malfoy touching her.

Those feelings disappeared as soon as they came, leaving Hermione in a daze. She still hadn't got used to all her hormones racing around her system yet – she was still new to it all, and sometimes it felt good and other times bad. A few moments later, though, Malfoy spoke.

"You know, you might not be so bad after all, Granger". He looked at her. "There's something of a Slytherin about you". With that, their gazes met. Hermione was confused. Was this Malfoy actually being _nice_ to her? She didn't know. He'd just _complemented_ her. From her experience, a compliment from a Malfoy was something very, very rare. Hermione had the feeling he didn't do that often, and she was probably right. He dropped his gaze after a few moments, and spoke again.

"Well, I'm just going to put Anielle to bed…" he got up and started towards the stone steps ascending to his bedroom. Hermione nodded curtly, and turned to face the fire. The warmth of it made Hermione feel better, and she just sat back to watch the flames.

"Oh, and Granger?" he called out just as he reached the top step. She turned back to look.

"Tell Pansy that I absolutely have no interest in you whatsoever," he said. And then, he did something so out-of-the-ordinary and so unlike him that Hermione could barely believe it. He actually smiled at her. A proper smile. Not a sneering grin, or an icy smirk…but a proper, friendly smile.

And, as she sat there, that was what made Hermione wonder if Malfoy really did have a heart after all. By the end of the night, she knew that the best thing would be to tell him what she knew of the plan that ended up in the birth of her child.


	15. Telling Ginny

It had been a long day. Hermione was sitting in her usual seat by the window in the library, her nose submerged in an old, tattered, worn-out volume on advanced Transfiguration. It wasn't Hermione's favourite subject – she rather favoured Ancient Runes of Arithmancy. Many a time that morning, Harry and Ron had tried to persuade her to come outside with them, but she wasn't having any of it and stayed inside. Around, stacks of six or so heavy books were piled up like miniature towers, obscuring any chance of anyone seeing her. As she browsed through the yellowed pages of _Advanced Transfiguration for Older Students_, she once again discovered that her mind was wandering away from where it should be. It wasn't the first time either; more often than not, she'd found herself distracted by her thoughts. It was as if nothing could focus her concentration properly. She had many things on her mind, of course, she did, but it was still no excuse to fall behind in her lessons. Not that she had, of course – _yet_. Shaking this thought from her mind, she closed the book and put it on top of a tall stack of books on her left. With purpose, she carefully took another book from the middle of the pile and began to work through that one instead, taking notes on a rough piece of parchment as she read.

"Working _again_, Hermione?" came the voice of Ginny Weasley from above her. Hermione looked up and smiled.

"Yes, you could say that" she replied, laughing. She put down her quill.

"So, why aren't you with Harry and Ron? I thought you three were inseparable" Ginny commented, pulling out the chair next to Hermione and sitting down. She reached up and took the top book from the stack in front of her. "You're reading _all_ these books?"

"Well, I want to get as much information as I can. I have to do this difficult essay for Professor McGonagall and it has to be in on _Thursday_. So, I'm taking no risks" Hermione nodded curtly, picking up her quill again.

"Difficult? Since when has anything been difficult for you?" Ginny laughed, her great brown eyes wide. She flicked her fringe out of her eyes, and turned to face her friend. Hermione noticed that her hair had lightened over the summer, after spending so much time under the sun. It was no longer a deep, wine red, but a kind of red brick colour. It was still poker-straight, though, and hung either side of her pale face like a frame.

"Since Malfoy became Head Boy" Hermione said limply. Ginny's eyes went even wider. Her eyebrows rose, as if to say _really? Malfoy?_ Hermione didn't say anything for a few moments, and then Ginny spoke again.

"I can't believe it. Who in their right mind would make Malfoy Head Boy?" Ginny cursed under her breath, and then dived down next to her chair to fetch her bag. "I've got some work to do as well. Potions" she grumbled, rolling her eyes like marbles. "Snape's got it in for me, I swear he has."

The two girls spent the next five minutes working on their essays in silence. All they heard was the clicking of Madame Pince's boots on the floorboards as she marched up and down each aisle, the thud of books being placed on tables, and the distant chatter of students from the corridors which led away to the several floors of the castle. There weren't many in the library; just a few Hufflepuff girls in a corner, bending over a thick Potions book and giggling hysterically, a few OWL students here and there, and Hermione and Ginny. Once again, Hermione found her mind wandering in another direction as her hand ran down the page, writing rapidly. Hermione no longer knew what she was writing; her mind was somewhere else entirely. Or, to be more correct, some_one_.

She began to feel slightly sleepy. It was warm in the library, and they were right next to a bright, blazing torch bracket. Hermione felt her eyes close, and the warm atmosphere lulled her into semi-consciousness. Once again, she felt her mind slipping into another dream, another vision. Another frightening insight into what happened to her.

Lucius Malfoy was pacing the floor of the dark room furiously, his footsteps echoing on the cold, limestone walls. He was very, very angry. 

"My Lord! I do not believe this! How dare he!" he spat viciously, turning to stare at Lord Voldermort.

"_Lucius, be calm…" he snarled, convincingly lightly; however, his red eyes were glinting malevolently in the little light there was in the old, dim room._

"_Calm! My own son has deceived me! Taken the child and fled! How do you expect me to be calm about this, My Lord?" he was growing increasingly angry with each word he spoke._

"_Lucius, I have a plan…we will remove the child from your son's care, but we must give it time. Let him think that he has won his battle" Voldermort snarled, a casual hint in his cold voice. _

"_But, for now, we must let things happen by themselves…" he laughed cruelly, smirking to himself. He put one, grey hand inside his robes, and pulled out his wand. He pointed it at Lucius, breathing heavily through his flat, snake-like nose. _

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!" _

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Hermione woke up, panting and soaked in a cold sweat.

"Hermione! Hermione! Are you alright?" Ginny's voice came, frantic, in the sudden shock. Hermione turned to face her.

"Ginny, Malfoy's dad…he's dead…Voldermort killed him…I've got to tell him…" Hermione burbled, struggling to sit up. She was still finding it hard to breathe easily. She put a hand to her chest, trying to calm herself down. She was lying in a hospital bed, she recognised the bright lighting, the glinting metal bedsteads, the door of Madame Pomfrey's office. Ginny put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. Her red hair obscured part of her face, so Hermione could only see one side of her face.

"What happened to me?" she whispered, her shortness of breath making it difficult to speak normally.

"You fainted, you must have had a shock or something…" Ginny frowned. She bit her bottom lip. "What's wrong with you?" she said quietly.

"What do you mean, what's wrong with me?" Hermione asked, confused. She was sitting up properly now, gripping the sheets tightly for comfort. What she had seen…what had happened…it had scared her. Why should a vision like that make her like _this_?

"There's something bothering you, Hermione. I know there is" Ginny said, one eyebrow raised. Hermione sighed, closed her eyes, and gathered up all the courage in her body. She didn't want to do this, she _knew_ it would get her into trouble; she _knew_ it would start a row with Malfoy…but she still told her. Ginny was her friend, she could be trusted.

"Ginny, I have a daughter, her name's Anielle. The only thing is, I had Anielle…with Malfoy"


	16. Keeping Secrets, Keeping Out of Trouble?

Ginny stared blankly at Hermione. She wasn't sure if she believed what she was hearing. It couldn't possibly be true – yet Hermione wasn't a person to lie.

"Hermione…is this true? All of it?" she asked reluctantly, sweeping a lock of her wine-red hair from her dark eyes. Her voice was meek, and Hermione wasn't entirely convinced that Ginny actually did believe her. Ginny was just about to speak again when Hermione answered her questions.

"Yes, Gin. It's all true. I've seen Anielle's birth certificate, I know it's true" Hermione replied. She was sitting up now, her back against the plump white pillows propped up behind her. The dizziness she had felt previously had cleared, and her head was no longer throbbing painfully from her most recent vision. The bright hospital lights made everything seem so much clearer, sort of clearer and whiter, and more pure, somehow. She looked at Ginny.

"You can't tell anyone, Gin. It has to stay a secret. If anyone finds out, there's a chance that both of us, Malfoy and me, will be expelled from here. Our daughter's in danger and she has to stay here with us. It's important. You can't tell _anyone_, not even Harry or Ron. You know what they're like" Hermione said, raising her eyebrows at the last bit. Ginny nodded confidently.

"Ok, I'll keep your secret. I won't tell anyone about Anielle, or you and Malfoy" she reached out and put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. She looked her seriously, her dark brown eyes hard and determined. "You have my word."

Hermione let a weak smile play around her lips.

"Thanks" she said. She was relieved that someone else finally knew her troubles. Hermione was certain she could trust Ginny – they'd been friends for six years. Ginny wouldn't tell anyone. She smiled back at Hermione, and then got up to leave. Hermione sighed lightly to herself as she watched her friend turn and walk through the hospital doors, thankful for the fact that Ginny was trustworthy and kind. When Hermione had told her the story, she hadn't acted any differently or said anything funny – she'd just been herself. For that, Hermione was exceedingly grateful. Leaning back against the pillows, she closed her eyes, and she settled down for a short nap to rest her spinning mind.

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Later on that evening, Hermione was freed from the hospital wing by a smiley Madame Pomfrey, and, as expected, she headed straight for the library. There was still some holly strung up from wall to wall left over from Christmas, and for a change, Madame Pince, the librarian, was sitting at her desk filing some papers instead of marching up and down the lines of bookshelves, looking down her beaky nose like a hawk surveying its prey. Hermione walked straight past Madame Pince's desk and over to her favourite table in the corner. Pulling her bag up onto the table, she emptied out her quills, ink and parchment onto the mahogany furniture and sorted it out. She was behind on homework yet again, and she had decided she would get most of it done that night.

Hermione was ten minutes into writing her newest piece of work, a foot-long essay for tiny Professor Flitwick on advanced levitation charms, when a dark shadow fell over her. She looked up to find Malfoy standing there, and he wasn't looking particularly happy. Putting her quill down, she looked at him and said, "What do you want now?"

"Granger, you've got to come with me. Now. We're in trouble," he said, his grey eyes flashing in the light from the torches behind them. Hermione glared at him, taking in his whole appearance. She had to say, she was impressed. She went slightly pink at the thought, but brushed it off with an icy comeback.

"What do you mean, _trouble_?" she asked, even though she thought she knew what he was going to say. Moreover, he did. Hermione's worst fears were confirmed when he told her that he was sure that someone had told Professor McGonagall about Anielle, but he admitted to not knowing who it was.

Hermione tensed. On instinct, she got up, packed her things in her bag and followed him out of the library. She knew McGonagall would be looking for them. He looked left and right when they reached the corridor, and then signalled Hermione to go left up the flight of stairs back to their Common Room.

"Where are you going, then?" she said, when she saw that he was going in the opposite direction.

"If we split up, then it will be harder for McGonagall to find both of us" he said, in a matter-of-fact tone that Hermione didn't particularly like. Hermione pursed her lips, but her mind told her not to say anything else and just follow his orders. _Hang on a minute! I'm taking orders from a Malfoy here. What am I doing?_ Her brain manically told her, and Hermione stood still for a few moments, wondering whether to actually listen to him or not. Just then, the sound of heels on a marble floor filled their ears.

"Ah, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy. I've been looking for you two" McGonagall's voice appeared into the quiet. Her tone was sharp and disapproving. The two Heads turned to see her standing at the top of the flight of stairs Hermione was just about to climb. Then, there was another set of footsteps, and a student of their own age appeared next to Professor McGonagall. A very familiar student, pug-nosed with short dark hair and black, glittering eyes.

Pansy Parkinson was smirking at them from the top of the stairs, at McGonagall's heels. Hermione's stomach dropped to the floor.

"Well, I think you two are _definitely_ in trouble" she announced smugly. Malfoy looked like he was about to faint, and frankly, Hermione wouldn't have been surprised if he did.

"Granger, Malfoy – I want to see you in my office, immediately" McGonagall said crisply, her square spectacles glimmering importantly. Gathering all the courage they could muster, the two of them reluctantly followed their Headmistress up the flight of stone steps to the door behind the golden griffin.


	17. Lying is the Only Way Out

The two Heads waited nervously outside the door of Professor McGonagall's office. How much did she know? If only a little, it was possible that they could twist the story a bit to get them out of trouble. Hermione looked at Malfoy, who was standing a little way from her and biting his nails, his blonde hair falling into his eyes. Every now and then, he had to flick it out of the way so he could see. Knowing she was staring, Hermione quickly looked away, and averted her eyes to the stone floor instead. A small flight of steps, only two or three, lead up the main door of the office, and a brass knocker in the shape of an open-mouthed lion's head glinted metallically in the light from the torches on the wall. Somehow, it had a dark, gothic mystery of an atmosphere about it. Just then, the door opened and Professor McGonagall came out, dark square glasses perched on the end of her pointed nose.

"Very well, then" she said, "you may come in". Reluctantly, Hermione and Malfoy followed her into the office. A large, rectangular dark-wood table stood a few feet from where they were standing, and behind it a majestic, high-backed chair with gold trim. McGonagall crossed over to the desk and sat down in the chair. The two students each took their own seats in front of the table. McGonagall adjusted her glasses, and then began to talk.

"Now, then. I have a matter of serious importance to discuss with you, and it is essential that I be given the truth. Things like these do not happen all the time, and given your situations as Heads of the school, I was astounded to find out this information" she paused for a moment, and lay a piece of paper in front of her on the desk.

"Miss Parkinson here tells me that you two have been keeping – against school rules – an infant within the school. A baby, about five months old. Am I right?" she looked at the two of them through her square glasses. They both knew that they had to say yes, so they did. They were both tense, wondering what would happen next. Before Professor McGonagall could carry on, Malfoy butted in.

"How come Parkinson knows, anyway?" he said sharply, his grey eyes flashing with different emotions; anger, worry, apprehension, all at once.

"She merely came looking for you when you were late for Quidditch practice" the Headmistress said. "When she arrived, you were nowhere to be seen. The youngster, however, was asleep in your bedroom, and she did not wake her. But she did find this" Professor McGonagall pushed the piece of paper in front of her across the table to them. "Do you recognise it?"

It was Anielle's birth certificate, of course. Hermione drew breath sharply, expecting the worst – but when she looked, it was blank. All information had been wiped out. Hermione blinked a few times, wondering whether she couldn't see properly, but when she looked, again, she was right. It was completely blank.

"Yes, I've seen it before" Malfoy said. "But it doesn't' belong to me, or Granger" he shifted in his seat, his pale hands in his lap. He wasn't looking at McGonagall. Instead, his eyes were on the dark stone floor beneath them.

"He's right," she said, her confidence increasing a little. "It's not ours". Professor McGonagall flinched slightly. Hermione's heart suddenly skipped a beat, and she wondered whether she'd done the right thing. They were both lying, right to her face, and if McGonagall caught wind of it, they would be in even more trouble than first intended.

"Then whose is it?" she asked. Malfoy shrugged. Hermione shook her head.

"You don't know." Professor McGonagall said. "Are you sure?" They both nodded in response. They only needed to lie when they had to. The Headmistress looked down for a second, then back up again at the both of them.

"What about this child you are keeping in your dormitory? You know it is against the rules for anyone in the school to look after a child within the walls of the castle. It has been for years, you know that" McGonagall inquired again, and this time both Heads were uncomfortable. Then, Malfoy spoke again.

"Professor McGonagall, I can explain…" he started, but his voice broke off mid-sentence.

"Carry on, Mr. Malfoy. I wish to know what is going on here, and if you can tell me then there will be no harm done" she said. Hermione knew that he was going to lie to her, she could tell. She only hoped he could make it as convincing as possible.

"The baby, she's my younger sister. She was born in the summer, but my mother is too ill to look after her. My father will not help us, he doesn't want anything to do with my mother or the baby, and I can't leave her at home. I had to bring her here; there was no other way. I know it's against the rules," he said, biting his lip anxiously, waiting for McGonagall's reaction to his lie. Luckily, she took it all in without question.

"Ah, I see. Oh, well, in that case…I suppose she can stay in the castle for the time being. There will be no more said about it, but if something should come up, then I will assure you I will investigate further. You may go"

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Outside, Hermione gaped at Malfoy.

"How did you come up with that stuff?" she asked him in awe. "I can't believe she actually thought that was the truth!"

"Yeah, well, I always lie to my parents, so I got good at it" he said, shrugging. His eyes never fell on Hermione, but looked around as they walked back to the Common Room. "At least Pansy's going to be annoyed when she finds out we weren't punished" he said, chuckling to himself. A half-smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and before she could stop herself, she was looking at him again, searching him with her eyes. They followed his body, he way he looked, everything about him. She felt a strange tingling sensation in the tips of her fingers as she walked next to him; she could feel the heat radiating from his body. A slow, pink tinge crept up her cheeks as her body lit up from his warmth.

They stopped in front of the flight of stairs that led to the Common Room. He turned to face her, and he came a few steps closer.

"Granger, we've got to keep a low profile. Change the password to the Common Room, so no one can get in except us. Don't let anyone in otherwise. Do you understand?" he asked, his eyes hard and serious. Hermione turned to the stairs, but she was stopped by a hand on her waist. It was Malfoy.

"I'm not finished yet. You know it's dangerous for her, don't you? Anielle, I mean. She's in danger, but I don't think you realise just how much" he said.

"I do, Malfoy. I do know how much she's in danger" she replied. He didn't remove his hand from her waist. She was startled at how warm his touch was. She wondered what it would feel like if he came any nearer, put his arms round her, perhaps. She couldn't help thinking how good-looking he was, even if he was arrogant, selfish, and self-centred. He was human after all. He was the father of her child.

"I've got to go. I've got work to do," she said quickly, brushing his hand away from her waist. Her fingers caught his warm skin she did so, and she felt herself going hot and strange as the balls of her fingers touched his own. She put all thoughts of the such out of her head, and started to walk up to the library, leaving Malfoy at the bottom of the stairs, confused. She wondered whether she had done the right thing by shrugging him off so quickly, leaving like that. It was hard to keep him from her mind. If her brain had a thought count, he and Anielle would be at the top of the list for sure. She sighed when she reached the top of the stairs, and then turned around. He was gone. He must have gone back to the Common Room another way, or gone outside. She blinked in the light. She was actually thinking of looking for him when she realised what she was doing. Over the past few weeks, she had been feeling strangely whenever he was around. Anielle had changed her life, for better or for worse, she didn't know, but she had certainly changed Hermione's way of looking at Malfoy. They'd just lied their way out of sticky situation, which would have been tough for anyone at the best of times.

However, Malfoy had done it easily, no problem at all. Maybe it was because he had so much self-confidence that everything was a piece of cake to him, giving what he and his family and endured. By the time she reached the library, she knew what was going on. It wasn't the feeling she had when she had lied to Professor McGonagall, or the rush of care that drowned whenever she held Anielle. Those were too complex compared to this. This was different.

She was becoming increasingly attracted to Draco Malfoy.

The more she tried to ignore it, the more it was true.

She was attracted to him, however much she wanted to deny it. He'd had an affect on her.

She was going to lie her way out of her feelings too, if she could do it.


	18. Denying Their Feelings

Hermione was sitting alone in the Common Room – again. It was the third time since their meeting with McGonagall that Malfoy had not stayed in the same room as her for more than thirty-five minutes. She didn't know why he was acting like this. Still, it was a lot better for her, because she didn't have to look at him or talk to him, and re-surface the fact she was beginning to become attracted to him. She sat back in her chair, brushing a curl of dark brown hair from her eyes. It had grown a fair bit, and it wasn't as bushy as it had been. Instead, it fell in perfectly formed curls around her shoulders, tame and soft and shiny. It was much more manageable now than it had been back in second year. The colour had changed a bit, too. It was still dark, but not _as_ dark. She'd persuaded her mum to let her have highlights, and they added a much more sophisticated appearance to her hair.

She mused on her thoughts, fiddling with a loose thread in the arm of the chair, twiddling it around her slim fingers. She had a lot on her mind. At least Christmas was now over, and she could start to turn back to her schoolwork. As much as she would have loved to spend every minute she could with Anielle, she knew that once the new term started, that wouldn't be possible. Hermione let her mind drift, floating amongst her thoughts and worries. Then she came to something Professor McGonagall had said that afternoon during lunch.

"Students" she'd announced, after a hush had fallen over the lunchtime chatter of the four house tables. "I am very pleased to inform you that a New Year's Eve ball will be held in the castle on December 30th. It is an informal occasion, and dress robes are to be worn. It will begin at eight o'clock, and ends at midnight, when there will be a firework display to mark the New Year. More details will follow". A New Year's Eve Ball. Perfect. Another chance to stamp Pansy to the ground. She smiled to herself as she remembered the look on Pansy's face in fourth year, when she turned up for the Yule Ball. Now was her chance to see that face again.

Then, she remembered something that was upstairs in her room. Hermione got up from her chair and went up to her bedroom, which was on the left of the flight of stairs, with the bathroom in the middle. She crossed over to her dark-red quilted bed and pulled out her trunk from underneath. With a flick of her wand, she opened the lock on it and prised it open. Inside, hidden from view, and buried amongst her everyday clothes, underwear, socks, and school robes, was a large brown package. Her mother had given it to her in the summer. She'd said she'd need it for a special occasion. Now she knew what it was for, and what it was. Carefully, she tore off the brown parcel wrapping and cast it aside. She gasped. In her hands, was a folded mass of shimmery white satin. She stood up and opened it out.

The dress fell right down the floor, obscuring her feet from view. It was beautiful. The material felt light and airy in her hands, and it looked like it was made of silk. She saw that the white satin shone gold under various points of light, and she knew she just _had_ to wear it for the ball. Of course she would! It was what she had been given it for. It must have cost her mother a lot of money. You didn't see dresses like these just anywhere in Southampton. After she'd marvelled and gawped at it, admired it from every direction, she folded it back up and placed it in the bottom of her trunk so it wouldn't be creased. Then, closing her trunk, she pushed it underneath her bed and locked it securely. No one was to see the dress before the ball. She wondered what Malfoy would think of it. She wondered what he would think of _her_ wearing it. Would he be surprised? _I hope he notices me. Wait a minute, what?! I don't want __**him**__ to notice me! Even though, with us being Heads and everything, he's been ignoring me a lot. Not that I mind, of course. Who would want to talk to a stuck-up ferret anyway?_ She willed herself to think negative thoughts about him, telling herself that he was selfish, arrogant, pompous, vain, stupid, and all kinds of other things. However, the more she thought this, the more she began to think he _wasn't_ any of those things. Well, not much, anyway.

The Common Room door opened downstairs, and she heard footsteps on the stairs. Malfoy must haven been back from Quidditch practice. He certainly did do a lot of Quidditch practice nowadays. Was that what he was really doing? She heard the bathroom door open and close, and Anielle began to cry. It was the first time she'd heard her cry in days. Because she'd been in the library, or outside, she'd never really had time to be with her. Now, though, she walked out of her room and across the short landing to Malfoy's bedroom. The door was open – he always left it like that just in case Anielle needed one of them. She walked right in and across to Anielle's cot. Her porcelain face was streaked with salty tears, and her lips looked dry. Hermione picked her up and cradled her, holding her close. Her crying slowly quietened. Within minutes, all she could hear was the soft breathing of her daughter on her neck. She bent down and lightly kissed the top of her head. Anielle's hair had started to darken, and was no longer the white blonde of her father's. Instead, it was a light corn colour. Hermione smiled.

Just then, her bedroom door opened and Malfoy walked in. He looked particularly pleased with himself, not usually a good sign. Today, though, it was a different sort of pleasure.

"You heard about the Ball, then?" he asked her. She nodded in reply, turning round to face him. She'd forgotten how good-looking he could be. Averting her mind from that thought, she concentrated on other things. "Yes, I was there when the announcement was made, you know" she said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. If she just kept up her hatred towards him, then maybe her feelings of attraction would go away on their own. He frowned slightly, and looked at Anielle. He raised his eyebrows.

"What?" she said, puzzled. She tried to keep all suggestion of attraction to the Slytherin out of her mind. Her heart tugged inside her chest as if being pulled by an invisible string. Just looking at him made her stomach tingle and fingertips go numb. Determinedly, she looked him in the eye.

"I was just saying," he said. "There's no need to be like that".

"I don't care" she replied icily. She hitched Anielle higher up on her hip, her arms protectively around her. She was in no mood for his stupid games.

A few moments silence followed. In those few moments, Hermione found herself becoming uneasy under Malfoy's stare. She felt as though his dark grey eyes were searching her for something, and she didn't like the feeling that thought gave her. His eyes bored into her own, and for once she didn't feel as attracted to him anymore. When he just acted as he did around the Common Room, she wasn't bothered by him. The minute he turned on her, that was the thing she didn't like. Any other time it was OK. The silence was making Hermione uncomfortable, so she spoke into the quiet first before he could say anything.

"Take Anielle, will you? Only I've got to go to the library to get some work done," she said briskly, walking forward and placing Anielle in his arms. Bewildered, he watched as Hermione walked out of his bedroom, down the stairs, took her bag from the desk, and left the Common Room. What had she done that for? Maybe he shouldn't have been so harsh on her. Wait a minute, that didn't sound right. Was he actually admitting to himself that he might have been too _mean_ to her? What did he care? It wasn't as if he _liked_ her or anything. That would just be ridiculous. She was a Mudblood, a lower level to him.

Even though, he couldn't help feeling that may be he _did_ have something for her. After all, he was only human, and humans can sometimes have feelings against their will. Shaking his head, he kissed Anielle's forehead and went to put her back in her cot.


	19. One Mad, Unexpected Moment

It was the evening of the Ball, and Hermione and Ginny were alone in the girl's dormitory. Parvati Patil, Padma's twin, had left already, and so had Lavender Brown. It was half-past seven, and students were starting to file into the Great Hall already. Music floated up from the Hall beneath them, and from the window, you could see the students coming in. Hermione sat on a red velvet stool in her white satin dress, the material flowing down past her feet and into a half-foot long train. The neckline was quite low and showed a little cleavage, and the spaghetti straps were tied with thin white ribbons and clear beads. The waist of the dress tapered to a point at her hips, and allowed the material to cascade in a waterfall from her waist. Hermione was very pleased with the dress and she liked the way it looked on her. Her hair was loose, tumbling in dark chestnut curls around her shoulders, silky and shiny. On one side, she'd placed a butterfly-shaped hairclip, and a matching necklace rested on her neck. It had been her grandmother's, pure sapphire, and it meant a lot to her.

"Hermione, you know Malfoy?" Ginny suddenly asked, fixing her hair into a French twist with a diamante hairgrip. Hermione turned to face her.

"Do I know Malfoy? Well, let's see…" she joked in reply, looking thoughtful. Ginny laughed, turning in her direction. She was wearing a dark purple dress, second-hand unfortunately, which was studded with diamante crystals around the waist. Hermione thought she looked very elegant in it, especially with her red hair up.

"Hermione, I'm serious. It's just that, well, he's a bit…different this year, if you know what I mean. Un Malfoy-ish" Ginny said, looking straight at Hermione with big brown eyes.

"I don't really mind, I don't see much of him. He's hardly ever in the dorm," she said simply, shrugging lightly.

"Really?" Ginny said, sounding surprised. "You'd think he'd be around a lot, what with Anielle and everything," she answered. Hermione shrugged again, then got up from her seat and went over to the dressing table.

"Maybe" she said. "If so, it still doesn't mean that he's _avoiding_ me or anything" Hermione was startled at her own response. Where had that come from? She hadn't planned to say that. Avoiding her? Malfoy? It sounded very unlikely, yet possible at the same time. But did that mean…? No! It couldn't be true…could it? Was he really avoiding her? When Ginny didn't respond to her comment, Hermione carried on.

"Gin, you don't think that…maybe…he's avoiding me because…of what's happened? Or something else?" she said, slightly worried now. Ginny looked at her.

"It could mean anything. I mean, you've been through a lot lately, he might feel uncomfortable being around you all the time because of Anielle" Ginny said wisely. Hermione was comforted a little at this. She saw the clock on the dressing table.

"Come on, Gin. We'd better go," she said, nodding towards the door. It was ten to eight, and they wanted to get there before it started. The two girls left the dormitory, and said no more on the subject.

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The Hall was full of students, chattering and laughing and having fun. A small orchestra, lead by tiny Professor Flitwick, was playing softly in the background. Hermione and Ginny spotted the two boys immediately. They came over, and exchanged greetings.

"You look nice, Hermione" Harry said. Hermione went a little pink at this, and contented herself with just smiling weakly, embarrassed. She quickly stole a glance around the room. She saw Malfoy and Blaise Zabini a little way off, deep in conversation. Pansy wasn't far from them, and she was looking at Malfoy in particular._ Stupid girl_ Hermione thought. _Why can't she see that Malfoy doesn't like her?_ She shook her head ever so slightly, and went to join Harry and Ron by the drinks table for some Butterbeer.

The four of them sat down on a velvet sofa near the door, sipping their drinks. Hermione was sitting between Harry and Ron, with Ginny on her right. They were talking about Quidditch, all three of them. How could Ginny stand them going on and on? Well, she was Ron's sister. Perhaps that made a difference. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Malfoy looking in her direction. What did he want? She caught his eye and he looked embarrassed, which was a) highly unusual and b) rather uncomfortable. Her brown eyes latched onto his own grey ones for less than a few seconds, yet it made her feel strange and warm inside. She took a sip of Butterbeer to cool herself down, and when she looked back, he was still there. He wasn't looking at her anymore, though. Hermione thought this was very lucky, because if he looked at her like that again Goodness only knew what would happen to her insides. She didn't know what it was that was making her feel like this, but know she knew for sure that she was definitely attracted to him. But was he attracted to her in any way? The idea was absurd, but not entirely impossible.

He hated her, everyone knew that, but sometimes the ones you hated were the ones you cared most about. She fiercely pushed this idea out of her head at once – the mere thought of Malfoy actually liking her seemed crazy. She bent down to adjust the straps on her shoes, and tucked a curl of hair behind her ear as she did so.

"I'm a bit hot in here, I'm going to go for a walk" she told Harry and Ron, getting up and finishing her drink. It wasn't exactly a lie – she was feeling rather stuffy in there, and the heat she felt from when she'd caught Malfoy's eye was still lingering in her body. She smoothed down her dress and placed her empty Butterbeer bottle on a table nearby.

"You've only been here ten minutes!" Ron exclaimed. "Can't you stay a bit? We've hardly seen you," he said. Hermione thought about it, and then shook her head. There were things she needed to think about, important things. She walked up to the stone steps, which led outside and pushed open the big main doors.

The night air was cool and fresh, the breeze whipping up her hair and wafting her dress. She immediately felt a lot better out here. The inky-blue sky was dotted with dozens of tiny silver stars, and the moonlight cast dark, tree-shaped shadows over the slightly dewy grass. She walked across to the wrought wooden bench near the oak tree, silvery and mystic looking under the light of the white moon. She sat down, careful not to dirty her dress on the chipping wood. Her placed her hands in her lap, her eyes to the floor. It was a lot calmer out here, with less noise and heat. She sat back gently, and closed her eyes to think. What if Malfoy really _did_ like her? Would she be able to cope? What about Anielle? What would they do about custody once school was over? It all seemed a bit of a problem now, even though the end of school was far away yet. Perhaps it was best to talk about it with him, once she found the time. But would he _want_ to talk to her about it?

The breeze picked up slightly, making her shiver. Goosepimples appeared on her arms, and she rubbed them to get herself warm. She heard the clock in the North Tower chime half-past eight, loud and clear in the dark night. She turned to look in the direction of Hogwarts. From her position on the bench, she could see the windows of the Great Hall glowing orange and yellow with the light from the torches, like individual fires in every pane of glass. They looked strangely out of place in the inky December night, kind of like a desolate exotic tribe in the middle of a suburban town. She sat up straighter, looking up, only to find the beam of moonlight falling in her direction blocked by someone.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she said crossly, looking up in his direction. He was staring down at her, grey eyes dark in the half-light, and looking somewhat spooky. The thin beam of moonlight cast down one side of his body illuminated his posture considerably, leading Hermione to look him up and down, squinting, in order to see him properly.

"I don't want anything from you, Mudblood. I just came out her to bother you, because I'm bored," he said casually, his eyes not leaving her. Hermione stood up slowly. In her heeled shoes, she was almost his height. He noticed this, and backed away, going to sit down on the bench, where Hermione had been seconds earlier.

"So, you're just here to bother me, are you? Well, I'd just _love_ it if you would clear off, Malfoy" she said, hands on hips. She tried extremely hard to channel all her attraction towards him into anger, so that nothing would be obvious to him. It was a difficult task, but she fought hard against every intention of sitting down next to him. The very thought of his warm, broad body next to her made her skin erupt into goose pimples and her fingertips tingle. Pushing all ideas of such away, she concentrated on her current 'conversation' with Malfoy.

"Who looks after Anielle when we're in class?" Hermione suddenly asked, struck by an immediate thought of worry. What if something happened to her when they were out here? How would they know?

Malfoy looked at her intently.

"I do, of course," he said. Hermione's brow furrowed. Him? But he was in class! Unless he used a Time-Turner…it _was_ possible. He saw her confused look, and carried on. "See this?" he said, pulling out a small, black square from inside his robes. "It acts like a pager, the sort Muggles use in hospitals and offices. It lets me know when she wakes up and starts crying" he said, shrugging lightly. Hermione watched him put the device back in his robes. She noticed how white and deft his fingers were, slightly paler than the rest of him. She looked at his blonde hair, his dark grey eyes, his wide shoulders and lean body…she couldn't help herself. She crossed the grass and went to sit down beside him. Funnily enough, he didn't pull away, or get up; he just stayed there, very still, not moving. He placed his white hands in his lap, clasped together, and he himself was looking at the grass beneath them. From the castle, slow orchestral music could be heard faintly, calm and rhythmic. It was very quiet, only the sound of the leaves rustling and distant chatter from students could be heard around them. It seemed the perfect opportunity to do something about her feelings, while there was no one about and they were alone.

"Malfoy?" she asked meekly. He turned round to face her.

"What _now_, Granger?" he snapped. Hermione was slightly crushed – his disapproving reply had rather put her off ease. Seeing her expression, he quickly apologised.

"Sorry, sorry. No need to get upset about it," he said. "It's just…" his voice trailed off mid-sentence and was left hanging. His voice didn't sound all too happy, in fact it sounded rather odd. Hermione dared move another inch closer. Her bare arms were touching his. She suddenly felt rather self-conscious. Brushing it aside, she reached out and placed a hand on his arm.

"I know it's going to be difficult working together, but, I really don't want to be called a Mudblood" she commented. He almost nodded, but changed his mind and turned to face her once more.

"Right" he said. He dropped his gaze to the wooden, chipped planks of the bench.

"Malfoy? Look at me" she said, her voice determined. "I won't abandon Anielle, nor will I not look after her" she said, knowing that this was what was going on in his mind. He looked up to meet her chocolate-brown eyes.

"Promise me that, Granger, because Anielle is everything I've got and I don't want to loose her," he said.

"I promise" her voice struggled to contain its normal sound. They were very close together, and Hermione felt herself getting stuffy with heat from her self-consciousness. Malfoy leaned in even further, and Hermione wondered for one mad, magical moment that he was going to kiss her.

Then they did. It was only for a few seconds, not even that, but the feeling of his warm lips on hers left her wanting so much more. When they broke apart, it seemed like day had already broken and birds were singing in her ears. He looked at her. The clock chimed nine o'clock. Hermione wasn't feeling difficult any more. She felt a lot better.


	20. Us

"What did you kiss me for, at the ball yesterday?" Hermione asked, turning to face him. They were both sitting on the black leather sofa in their Common Room, one at one end and the other sitting on the other end. Malfoy didn't turn towards her; he just shrugged and continued to watch the flames in the coal fire.

"Last night" Hermione prompted. "Why did you kiss me?" her voice grew concerned and slightly impatient, even though inside her she was on edge, waiting to know his answer. Would it be what she wanted it to be? Or something different? After a few moments, he turned to face her. The look in his eyes told Hermione what she wanted to know – it was definitely good news of some sort.

"You really want me to tell you?" he asked. She nodded slowly in response, dark curls tucked behind her ears. He gave a little sigh, then moved closer to her. Hermione didn't know what to think of this action. Perhaps she herself should move too. She didn't though, in case he misinterpreted her.

"I kissed you because I wanted to" he said. "I couldn't keep myself from staying away from you". His voice was calm, but his eyes wavered and glinted mysteriously in the firelight. He carried on.

"Look, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Granger, but, since I told you about Anielle and everything else, you've kind of grown on me" he lowered his head in distinct embarrassment. He was obviously feeling guilty about this. Hermione still didn't say anything.

"That still doesn't explain why you kissed me at the ball" she said after a couple of seconds of silence. He raised his blonde head slightly.

"I like you, Granger" he whispered, his voice barely audible. Hermione had to strain her ears to hear him properly. She dared move a little closer to him. Him, her supposedly worst enemy, a ferret, a Slytherin, and an arrogant one at that. However, why was she feeling like this about him, then? Even though she knew he felt it too, she couldn't help feeling as though she was betraying Harry and Ron through this, through her actions. It didn't stop her, though.

"I said I liked you," he repeated, not wanting to look up at her fully. She could understand why. Nervously, she played with her hands in her pleated-school-skirt lap, not knowing what to say next. It didn't look like Malfoy knew what to say either. There was a few minutes silence between them. The bell for last night curfew went in the distance. Flames from the fire cast dancing shadows across the cream walls of the room, illuminating the tapestries and making anything brass in the room glint and glitter as if sprinkled with tiny stars. Suddenly, he moved closer to Hermione, so close they were almost touching. Hermione could feel the warmth of his body just a few millimetres away from her, hear his slow faint breath. He lowered his head to her level. Then he kissed her again, this time much more meaningful, meeting Hermione's lips with warmth and intimacy. Hermione kissed him back, losing all sense of control, not caring about whether or not it would madden Harry and Ron, or about betraying them…it just felt good, even coming from Malfoy, whom she'd hated for the past six years.

The remained at each other's mouths for a minute, maybe two, maybe three. When they finally broke apart, Malfoy slowly put his hand on her knee. What had she just done? Would Harry and Ron ever accept it if they found out? And what about everything else? Hermione bit her lip lightly, wondering what was going to happen now. Would he ask her out? Would he just leave things be? Perhaps, perhaps not. Once again, Hermione's mind began spinning with all sorts of stories, excuses, and mad ideas. Then, Malfoy spoke in the quiet that followed.

"If we're going to do this, then we'll need to revert to first-name basis, won't we?" he said quietly, his free right hand moving up to brush a curl of Hermione's hair out of her brown eyes.

"I suppose we're going to have to, but are we really going to give us…a go?" she asked reluctantly, hesitant to know the answer as soon as the question left her mouth. Was he really interested in going out with her? On the other hand, was he just messing her around, pretending to like her just for Anielle's sake?

"Only if you want to," he replied.

But did Hermione want to? Did she, really? She was immensely attracted to him, she even liked him, but he was the father of her child and if this was all a story to mix things up…well, that was the risk she would have to take.

"I _do_ want to, but it's wrong, you know that. We've barely been friends have we?" she commented, her eyes wide and expressive.

"It doesn't matter what anyone else says. I don't care, Hermione" he whispered her name for the first time, with a slight strange reluctance. She gathered up the confidence to reply to his answer.

"I don't care either. Anielle need us, she's in terrible danger. I've only known her for a month or so, less than that, but she's really important to me…us" she said. It was as if a whole new, other Hermione was speaking, and she herself was totally unaware of the trouble they would cause if anyone realised they were keeping their own daughter here. Nevertheless, Anielle _was_ important to her. She was her _daughter_.

"Draco?" she said, using his first name. The word felt unnaturally strange in her mouth, calling him by his given name when all those years she'd taken to calling him Malfoy, or Ferret, or worse when she was in a bad mood.

"Yes?" he asked.

"We'll give it a go. Us, I mean. We can both work something out, I'll be a good mother to Anielle and everything," she said. "I won't abandon her, I promise I won't".

"You already _are_ a good mother" he commented. Hermione was very flattered indeed by his comment.

"Goodnight, then" she said.

"Goodnight, Hermione" he replied. She got up from her seating position on the sofa, her fingers grazing his hand as she stood. His skin was warm, and Hermione wondered what it would feel like for him to hold her hand…smiling contentedly to herself, she climbed the flight of limestone stairs to her bedroom.

On the small landing, she didn't turn left to go to her own room. There was something she wanted to do first. Going left, she went into Draco's bedroom and shut the door over behind her. She walked across to Anielle's cot, where Anielle herself was sleeping peacefully like an angel, corn hair tousled, rosy lips pursed. Hermione bent down over the cot, reaching out with her finger. She stroked Anielle's tiny hand, feeling the soft skin under the whorls on her fingertip. No, _like_ an angel wasn't the right description. She _was_ a sleeping baby angel, her daughter, Anielle Malfoy. She was her child, and she was her mother. Standing up again, Hermione turned round and walked out of the room, carefully shutting the door as quietly as she could to avoid waking Anielle up. Hermione walked across the landing to her own room. When she was there, she lay back on her bed, fully clothed, and drifted almost instantly asleep, even though it was only half-past nine.

Us. That was the word. Us.


	21. Taking Something

Over the next few days, Hermione spent most of her time with Draco in their shared Common Room, playing with Anielle and taking it in turns to get up to her if she woke in the night. She'd grown a fair bit by now, just about the size of a medium sack of potatoes, and her silky, corn-coloured mop of hair almost reached her collarbone. She was smiling now, sometimes laughing, even trying to sit up by herself if any of them left her where she was. Hermione felt right at home in their company, almost as if it was the perfect situation for her to be in.

She and Draco were alone in the Common Room. The fire was weak; the elves didn't have time to go round to putting more coal in. The flames jumped half-heartedly in the charred black wood, lighting the Common Room with nothing but a yellowy-orange glare. Hermione was sitting rather close to him, her head just touching his shoulder. Anielle was fast asleep in her cot upstairs, having just had her bottle, and there wasn't a sound to be heard in the room. Hermione felt very calm, very peaceful, despite the poor firelight. She moved a little closer to Draco, and he took her hand in his own. She turned towards him, dark curls framing her English Rose face.

"Draco?" she asked. He turned to face her.

"Yes?"

"You know, when I was disguised as Jasmine, well, a thought just came to me…what had happened to _me_, if you know what I mean?" she asked. It was something she hadn't considered before. What _had_ happened to _her_, when she was Jasmine? Why did no one spot her disappearance?

"I think Voldermort got a Death Eater to impersonate you, as to not arouse suspicion" he replied, shrugging. "I'm not really sure". Hermione was pleased with the answer she got – she doubted whether Draco actually knew the answer at all to that question.

She put her head on his shoulder. The flames of the fire weren't getting any stronger, but somehow the light in the room had. Feeling his warmth next to her, his hand around hers, the quietness of the room, it made her feel relaxed and sleepy. It was very late into the night, and Hermione wondered if it was the lack of the sleep that made her think that the fire was glowing more fiercely now, sparks erupting from the black dust, igniting more flames here and there. Without thinking, she closed her eyes, not realising what was going to happen next.

_Lord Voldermort sat alone, the high-backed chair turned against the burning fire. There were no other people in the room with him. The fire's red-hot flames danced along the wood panelled walls, illuminating the Dark Lord's ruby red eyes, shadowing his face to an eerie half-moon. _

"_Well" he said to himself. "If the Malfoy boy thinks he can thwart my plans, then he is wrong!" his voice rose, echoing in the empty room, through the open door and down the corridor outside. "That child is mine! I will have that child!" he thumped the arm of his chair with an eel-grey fist. It was true, he was angry, very angry, and that Anielle had been taken away by her father, escaping the clutches of his accomplices._

"_Very well" he snarled quietly. "If the boy will not give up the child, then I will have to take her from her parents myself!" he laughed cruelly, the noise hitting the wood walls hard, ricocheting off the carpentry. _

Hermione sat up with a start, her head spinning. She was very pale. Her hands were shaking – in fact, her whole body was shaking – and her stomach was doing a kind of seesaw inside her. She turned to face Draco. It was very clear he was worried.

"Are you OK?" was the first thing he said to her. Hermione didn't hear him properly. Her mind was still reeling from the shock of this new vision. Lord Voldermort was going to snatch Anielle himself! She knew now that she _had_ to warn Draco, to tell him about the other visions.

"Hermione?" he asked again, the worry clear in his voice. "You're really pale – what's wrong?" Hermione couldn't speak. She feared she would be sick if she opened her mouth. She turned towards Draco.

"I-I don't feel very well" she managed to stutter. To stop herself from falling, she grabbed hold of him for support. Her head throbbed painfully, her legs were like jelly and the squirming nausea inside her would not go away. Her hands shook as she gripped his robes. Suddenly, she gagged and retched loudly. Detaching herself from him, she shot up from the sofa and ran to the bathroom.

Collapsing in front of the toilet, she was sick repeatedly, tears of fear now falling down her face. She heard Draco come up after her, knocking on the door.

"Come in!" she called feebly, sobbing as she clutched the round bowl of the toilet. He knelt down beside her, scooping her hair behind her neck. She retched again, hard, and coughed several times, tears choking her throat. The horror of her visions came back to her, niggling ferociously away at her brain like an infestation of tiny insects. She felt Draco put his arms around her.

"It's OK," he said. Hermione shook her head vigorously. She sank back against him, her cheeks wet with tears, and a few more dripping out of her eyes. She bit her lip, burying her head in his chest.

"They're going to take her. The Death Eaters. They're going to take Anielle," she sobbed. Draco only tightened his hold on her, stroking her hair softly. That was what she liked about him – he would take care of her no matter what, no matter how little or big the problem was.

"What do you mean?" he asked, unable now to keep the worry from his voice.

"Draco, I've been having these visions…of Voldermort and your father…talking about us…and he-he said- he was going to take Anielle from us himself if we didn't allow him to have her" she said, choking back the tears threatening to spurt from her eyes at any moment. She felt him tense around her.

"He-he killed your father, Draco. Because he hadn't been successful in taking Anielle from us – Voldermort killed him" she explained, looking up at Draco. Hermione saw his shoulders droop sadly.

"Great. Just when I thought my life couldn't get any worse," he said dismally.

"But you've still got me, and Anielle" she answered, looking him right in his eyes.

"I know. I know, Hermione – and that's the problem. You're everything I have. I haven't got anything else" he replied. He bent down and kissed her forehead. He knew he would never forgive himself if anything happened to them, any of them.


	22. Making The Most of It

Following the breakdown caused by this latest vision, both Hermione and Draco had become more protective of their daughter, out of fear more than anything else. If what Hermione had seen was true, and that Voldermort really was going to try to take Anielle from them, then they had to be prepared to do anything to prevent it. As a result, Hermione was drifting further and further apart from Harry and Ron, and spending more and more of her time in the Head's Common Room accompanied by Draco. The two boys had noticed this, and they had started to get suspicious. At breakfast the Saturday their first Hogsmeade trip after Christmas was planned, they decided to confront her about what she had been doing.

"So, what have you been up to lately?" Ron asked, trying to sound as casual as he possibly could.

"Me? Oh, not much, I've been a bit tied up with schoolwork so I haven't really had the time to do anything" came Hermione's reply. She took a sip of her pumpkin juice and went back to her cereal.

"Really? I haven't seen you in library that often" Ron said, catching Harry's eye. If they kept it up, Hermione would have to tell them what she had been doing.

"I've been doing my work in the dormitory," she snapped, getting irritated at their sudden nosiness. Why should they want to know what she'd been up to every minute of the day? Just because she hadn't been around a lot lately…hang on, that was it! They were put out because she hadn't been spending as much time with them as usual!

Sighing, Hermione put her spoon down on the table and reached for the jug of pumpkin juice opposite her. Pouring herself another drink, she spoke again.

"Look, Ron, Harry...I know I haven't been able to spend as much time as I would have liked with you lately, but I've had things on my mind. Important things…" her voice trailed off mid-sentence, and she pushed a curl of hair back from her face with confidence. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Draco looking at her from the Slytherin table. She held his gaze for a moment, and then looked away, hoping Harry and Ron hadn't seen.

"What kind of important things? Good Lord, Hermione, you're not thinking of re-forming SPEW again, are you?" Harry asked, eyes wide, looking worried. Hermione almost laughed.

"Harry! No, of course I'm not! It's just, well, things have happened lately and it's taking some time to get used to them, that's all" she said, thinking of Anielle and her new-found relationship with Draco and the visions she'd been having…yes, it was taking some time getting used to, even with Draco's help.

"Oh" Ron said. "Oh, OK then. So, looking forward to Hogsmeade?" Ron enquired, shovelling yet another forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. Hermione wrinkled her nose at his lack of manners.

"Honestly, Ron, you eat like a pig. Yes, I am looking forward to it. It'll be a nice change from being so busy all the time in the dormitory" she said. She took another spoonful of her cereal. "But, if you don't mind, I'll have to leave at about two o'clock" she explained. "I'm…I'm meeting someone". In reality, this 'someone' was Draco. They'd arranged to meet by the derelict warehouse behind Zonko's Joke Shop at two, giving them two and a half hours together before having to go back to Hogwarts. In addition, he had said that he would be bringing Anielle with him – easier said than done, but it wasn't right for her to be cooped up in the Common Room all the time. She needed fresh air, and where better to go than Hogsmeade?

"Ok, we'll see you till then" Harry said, draining his goblet of pumpkin juice and getting up from the table. "Come on, let's go get our stuff". They rose from their seats and walked together out of the Great Hall, parting at a flight of stairs at the end of the Entrance Corridor.

At half past ten, around two-dozen black horse-drawn carriages pulled up in the courtyard, waiting to take the students to Hogsmeade village. Hermione noticed that Draco was nowhere to be seen – she imagined that he was going later on if he was taking Anielle as well. Harry had the map with him, along with his Invisibility cloak and wand. Hermione dreaded to think why. Instead, she let her mind drift to the reassuring fact that in four hours' time she would be seeing Draco and her daughter.

A carriage stopped just in front of a group of anxious-looking third year students who were standing near Harry, Ron and Hermione. The three of them bustled their way through the noisy throng of pupils to the carriage, and climbed in quickly. A little way ahead, Hermione saw Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and a couple of other Slytherins scramble for a carriage blocked by a few surly-looking Hufflepuff fifth-years. But, being Slytherins of course, they pushed their way through and got in, and Hermione swore she saw Pansy Parkinson push a timid third year out of her way rather roughly, so that the poor student fell over in the snow-covered courtyard. Pansy just laughed harshly. Hermione's brow furrowed in anger, but did not press the subject.

When the got in, they saw two girls coming towards them. One of the girls had long red hair and was wearing a cream mohair sweater – the other was reading _The Quibbler_ upside down and her earrings were made of some small radishes. Ginny and Luna.

"Can we share your carriage? All the others are full" Ginny asked, and Harry nodded. They climbed in and squashed into the remaining seats near the window of the carriage. Luna didn't look up from _The Quibbler_, but thanked them quietly from behind the black-and-white pages. Ginny turned to them and said in a hushed whisper,

"Don't mind her, she's just in a bit of a daze because some Slytherins sent some rumours flying round about her". Ginny looked at Luna sympathetically.

The call of the porter came from outside the carriage, and the horses were kicked into gear. The car trundled off along the path, out of the great brass gates and down the road. Luna put down her magazine. Her cloudy hazel eyes were distant, and somewhat wet looking. She shrank back in her seat, not resting her eyes on any of them.

"What did they say?" Harry asked worriedly. Ginny shook her head.

"She won't tell me, but I know it's bad". Ginny bowed her head. Not another word was spoken for the remainder of the ride to Hogsmeade.

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When Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Luna got off the carriage (Luna still hadn't said a word), the early January sun was shining bright over the village. Hogsmeade's cobbled streets were filled with wizards and witches, stocking up on merchandise in the New Year's sales. The sky was a pure blue. It seemed the perfect day to be spending time out with friends – especially if you hadn't been spending much time with them lately. The five students made their way up the main street, the widest one, which housed several run-down cottages, Madame Rosemerta's pub, and, at the far end, Honeydukes sweet shop. They passed a few derelict buildings, roof planks sagging, windows dusty, and doorframes soft with rot. Hermione saw Ginny screw her nose up at the state of these houses, and she wasn't surprised. In fact, Hermione wouldn't have been surprised if squatters had moved in to live there.

"Come on" Ron said. "Let's go for a drink". He led the group up to the front door of a pub called The Three Broomsticks, owned by Madame Rosemerta; a clever witch, and very attractive indeed. It was obvious why Ron had chosen this pub, and not another. Ginny stepped forward and pushed the oak door open. A small bell tinkled over their heads as they walked in. It wasn't full – a couple of heavily cloaked wizards sat talking quietly in a corner, and Hermione spotted a gaggle of fourth-year Ravenclaw girls gossiping by the dusty window. The five of them chose a table at the back of pub, placed along a wood-panelled wall hung with several tapestries of foreign landscapes. A scuffle of chairs later, they were all sitting round the rectangular table. Luna still had her head in _The Quibbler_, and would not look at even one of them.

Madame Rosemerta came over to them in her red high-heeled shoes, hair scraped into a bun. Ron's eyes light up. Hermione frowned and checked her watch. It was quarter past eleven. Tow hours and forty-five minutes to go until she saw Draco. A long time to wait if you had a daughter to look after and many, many problems to solve.

"What would you like?" Madame Rosemerta asked. She looked at each of them in turn. Hermione could sense her clocking in Luna's long, wavy blonde hair, and her distant, large hazel eyes. She said nothing, though.

"Five Butterbeers, please" Ron said. Madame Rosemerta nodded, wrote something on a pad of paper, and strode off to the bar, where a dark-haired man was drying glasses with a duster cloth.

When their drinks came, Luna finally lowered her magazine. Even from across the table, Hermione knew she had silently been crying behind her edition of _The Quibbler_. Her great hazel eyes were still wet with tears, and several more had dried across her cheeks. Sniffing hard, she accepted her drink from Ron with a shaky "Thanks", and took a long sip. Harry started the conversation.

"So…have a nice Christmas?" he asked round, looking at each of them in turn. He stopped abruptly at Luna.

"I-it was ok. It could h-have be-been better, I suppose" she said, shrugging softly.

"What happened?" Harry enquired, with sympathy clear in his voice.

Luna shook her head. "Please, I don't want to talk about it". She took another sip of her drink. Hermione followed suit.

"Have you made any New Year's Resolutions?" Hermione asked quickly. Ron shook his head vigorously.

"I never keep them, so what's the point?" he asked. Harry, however, had a different answer.

"Yeah, I said I would visit my parent's graves in Godric's Hollow" he said quietly. Hermione smiled at him. He'd made a very good choice she thought.

"That's great, Harry" she said. He smiled back.

In the distance, the giant clock in the centre of Hogsmeade chimed half past eleven. Every minute that passed brought her meeting with Draco closer and closer. She couldn't wait to see Anielle, or him. She wondered whether, once Anielle was a bit older, that telling Harry and Ron would be a good idea. Perhaps, perhaps not. She would never know unless she tried. She decided to run it by Draco when they met up later on. Maybe he had an idea. Hermione drank some more of her Butterbeer, letting it warm her up, as it was rather cold outside. Leaning back in her chair, she felt very relaxed. The chatter in the pub had risen slightly – the Ravenclaws were fawning over something one of them had on the table. Possibly an article from the _Prophet_, but not many students read that any more. Hermione finished her drink, setting the bottle down on the table roughly. She stole a glance at her watch. Twenty-five to twelve. _Boy, time sure goes slowly when your waiting for something…or someone_ she smiled to herself as this thought came to her. Harry was too busy talking to notice. Luna was reading _The Quibbler_ again. Ron was busy gaping at Madame Rosemerta over by the bar.

Hermione thought. She'd been doing that a lot lately. The reeling fear that someone might take Anielle came back to her as she remembered her latest vision. Lord Voldermort's cold, cruel laughter filled her memory. She remembered how he'd killed Lucius Malfoy, for not doing his job properly. Was that what would happen to Draco? Would he be killed for not joining the Dark Side like his father? _Don't think about that. Think about something positive_ her mind insisted. Harry immediately stood up.

"Everyone finished?" he asked. There was a murmur of agreement amongst the group. Luna stood up first, after Harry. Hermione scraped her chair back across the stone-flagged floor and stood up herself. Ron and Ginny followed suit. The five of them walked out of the pub, the faint _tinkle tinkle_ of the bell sounding above them.

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At ten to two, Hermione started walking up the cobbled street to Zonko's Joke Shop. The main street was the longest street, and Zonko's was right at the end of it. It was a fair bit to walk, but Hermione could handle it. A nippy wind had picked up now, whipping her hair around her head like a moving halo. Pulling her jacket tighter around her, she pressed on up the street until she came to the famous joke shop. She checked in the window hastily, and then ducked behind the left-hand wall of the building and round the back. Three huge, silver bins stood against the red brick, and next to them, on a bench, sat Draco. He had one hand on the handle of a pram, which of course contained Anielle. He smiled when he saw Hermione.

"You made it, then" he said. She nodded, and went to sit next to him. He put an arm around her waist.

"Draco…" she started, not sure of how to proceed.

"What?" he asked, turning to face her.

"Well, I've been thinking, and…have you ever considered that this, all of this, might have been a trap?" she asked nervously, trying to sound as casual as possible. In theory, she was really asking in a subtle way of telling him what she'd discovered during her visions. As soon as she said it, he pulled away from her as if he'd been electrocuted.

"What do you mean?" he enquired, his brow furrowed in puzzlement. A soft murmur came from the pram. He turned it round swiftly, so that Anielle was facing them. She looked perfect in a tiny pale pink winter suit, the colour adding warmth to her porcelain cheeks. Hermione noticed how much she'd grown in such a short space of time. When Hermione first saw her, she was just a tiny baby. Now, though, she was almost shin-high. Hermione put her head on Draco's shoulder.

"Look, I've been having these visions for a while. And, in one of them, Voldermort said – he s-said – that this was all a ploy to break your heart" she said slowly, unsure of how he would react. He pulled her closer to him. Hermione could feel the warmth radiating off his muscular chest.

"Really?" he said.

"Really" Hermione looked up at him. A pair of bluish teal-grey eyes looked back at her. Anielle started to whine.

"Poor thing, she's been cooped up in that pram for ages" he laughed, leaning forward to undo the straps. He gently eased her out of the navy pram and sat her on his lap.

"Where d'you get the pram from?" Hermione asked.

"I bought it when Anielle was born. I kind of figured I'd need it" came the reply. Anielle burrowed her head into his chest, and his grip automatically tightened on her. Hermione edged closer to Draco still. He looked at her, then at Anielle. Hermione's eyes spoke for her. With care, he handed her over to her mother.

Hermione took her and held her close. She certainly was a lot heavier. She kissed the top of her head, drawing her towards her, hands holding her firmly. She reached up and stroked her soft blonde hair. "You're a big girl, now, aren't you?" she said quietly, rocking her lightly in her arms. She murmured in reply. "Yes, you are. You're going to grow big and strong like your dad," she said, and with those words, she looked up at Draco, who was smiling at the pair of them. He reached out and put a curl of Hermione's hair behind her ear. Automatically, they leaned in towards each other. She could feel his soft breaths on her neck. She looked right into his eyes, holding his gaze. Then, they kissed, repeatedly, almost drinking each other. It was a while before they realised that Hermione was still holding Anielle.

"Oops" she said. "We can't go doing that when Anielle can see us" they both laughed, then came closer for another kiss, once Hermione had strapped Anielle safely back into her pram and turned it round the other way.

She put her arms around his neck. Her lips were working overtime, desperate to make contact with his own mouth. Draco placed his hand on her waist, while the other reached up to play with her hair.

It was the easiest way to forget all their troubles.

They were making the most of what they had, before it started to go haywire, as it would do very, very soon.


	23. Surprise Visitors

The Head's Common Room was as quiet as a mouse, with almost no sound at all in the room. Only the faint crackling of the log fire and the _tick, tick_ of a clock could be heard amongst Anielle's soft murmurs in her mother's arms. Hermione sat alone – Draco was out at Quidditch practice – and looked down at the feeding infant. She'd taken the bottle in her tiny baby hands and was sucking happily, occasionally making sweet sounds of appreciation. This was the first time Hermione had fed Anielle herself. She had always left Draco to do it, since he had more experience with Anielle, but it hadn't seemed fair for him to do it all the time. Therefore, she'd told him that the next time her feed was due, she would do it for a change, and let him have a rest from fatherhood for a while.

Hermione adjusted her position slightly, propping up Anielle's head a bit more. One of her hands held the baby bottle, the formula inside slowly decreasing; the other was under Anielle's head. Hermione smiled. She felt a warm rush of love for her, her own daughter. It was an ever-present feeling, a happy one at that, and it helped her through her problems. She still hadn't mentioned the other visions to Draco, and she was getting reluctant to saying anything at all. Perhaps if she tried to forget them, then it would become easier to think that what she'd seen and heard was not true. _Yes, like that's going to happen in a hurry, Hermione_ her mind told her scathingly. _You know it's true, someone really is after Anielle_. Hermione mentally slapped herself for letting her mind tell her those things. She needed to stay positive, she _had_ to, for her sake, as well as Draco's and Anielle's as well.

A small, triumphant gurgle came from Anielle. Hermione looked down at her baby girl. She'd finished the entire bottle, which was something she hadn't done before. She usually nodded off about halfway through, but tonight she wasn't as sleepy as normal. Her eyelids were half-closed and droopy, but the great blue-grey orbs behind them still sparkled contentedly. Maybe she wasn't as tired tonight. Hermione went to stroke her hair. Her slender fingers found Anielle's soft, fluffy mop of hair. She gently played with it, carefully teasing out the blonde strands between her fingertips. In the great brass fireplace, the fire emitted a hiss and a crackle; the orange flames jumped about in among the black coal, casting strange shadows across the cream walls of the room. Each tapestry flared up in the firelight, the shadowed leaves of the hot, burning red fire lapping the edges of the weaved pictures. On a table nearby, Hermione's small plastic alarm clock ticked past seven o'clock. Anielle's eyes started to close.

She continued to stroke her hair lovingly, every so often looking up to check the clock. Five past seven. Seven past seven. Ten past seven. Anielle still hadn't fallen asleep. Hermione stopped her stroking of her hair and leaned back in the leather armchair. She ever so gently eased the bottle from her daughter's hands and put in on the end table next to the chair. She switched on the lamp next to it with the aid of her wand (it wasn't activated by a switch as normal), and immediately a pool of yellow light flooded the mahogany table, lighting up the random objects placed on it; a few Sickles, a dull, blunt-edged old Galleon, a Chocolate Frog wrapper, Anielle's dummy and an open purse spilling countless bronze Knuts out onto the table. Random objects, but nonetheless important to some people. Anielle wriggled for a moment, tucking her legs up underneath her like a little dog. Hermione pulled her baby blanket around her, fastened a popper button on her pyjamas that had come undone. The, her eyes fell slowly shut, and she nodded off a few seconds later. Her tiny hands were up by her neck, curled into small fists. Hermione took one look at her perfect porcelain complexion, her rosy cheeks, her small button nose, and realised something. Her daughter was very, very special. She was lucky to have her.

Hermione gave a long yawn and rubbed her eyes with her free hand. She was getting rather tired herself now, even though it was barely half-past seven yet. However, that was what motherhood was like. She would have to expect tiredness. Hermione blinked slowly. She pushed a curl of her hair behind her ear, and reached up to fix a hairgrip that had come loose. Her hand went to cover Anielle's, her soft skin tender beneath Hermione's fingertips. She stroked the small, pale fist with her index finger. Hermione loved the times like this night, where she could just sit and hold Anielle in her arms, not doing anything, just holding her. It gave her such a wonderful feeling, the same kind of feeling she got whenever Draco was around. A feeling of happiness and content. And, as much as she would loathe herself for admitting it, Harry and Ron had somehow faded out of this image of complete happiness. Of course, they were friends, they had been that way since their first year, but now she felt as if their friendship was missing something, and that something was present in other aspects of her life and not in theirs. Hermione sighed quietly to herself.

She looked up to check the clock yet again. It was twenty to eight. She blinked again. This meant that there was twenty more minutes still to go. Why had she taken to watching the clock so often? She knew that the Slytherin Quidditch team didn't finish practice until eight o'clock, sometimes later if the Gryffindors had decided to show up early for their own practice. Since tall, white floodlights had been built around the Quidditch stadium, it was possible for the teams to practice for longer and later into the night now, something that they couldn't do before. They usually had to come off the pitch at around six o'clock in the evening, when dusk started to fall and light was limited. Carrying Anielle, Hermione got up from her armchair and walked over to the lattice window along the far wall of the room. Adjusting the belt of her dressing gown, she peered out of the windowpane at the grounds of the school. You could see most of the Quidditch pitch from where the Common Room was situated, and the bright floodlights glared against the dark sky. Hermione could see the black towers of the stadium stands, and the three huge scoring hoops glinted in the light. Here and there, a few twinkling stars were dotted around in the inky night. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw the branches of the nearby trees sway with the breeze.

For a while, Hermione watched the players on their broomsticks, silhouetted and dark, racing through the cold January air. She wondered which one was Draco. He was easily the smallest on the team; most of them resembled species of monkeys, but that didn't stop him being chosen team Captain. Size didn't really matter, as long as you could play Quidditch. Hermione looked down, away from the window, at the black metal sill underneath it. An elegant Celtic design had been engraved into the top of the metal, representing a spiralling vine, blooming with roses, and (from what she could make out) flourishing lilies. Like everything else in the room, it had been very grandly fashioned from the best materials, as had the rest of the schools' hundreds of rooms. Hitching the sleeping Anielle up a little in her arms, she reached up and pulled shut the wine-red curtains over the window, which wasn't easy with the effort of trying to hold up a heavy baby at the same time. Anielle had grown bigger over the past weeks. She took one last look out at the pitch before closing the material over, fastening the golden hooks at the top to keep the curtains in place.

With the wave of her wand, which was in her dressing gown pocket for safekeeping, she lit a couple more lamps situated around the room for extra light. As she walked over to the fireplace to stoke the burning wood as to encourage more flames, though, there came a knock at the door of the Common Room. Anielle, stirred by the noise, whined and moaned softly. Hermione saw to her, placing a kiss on her forehead. "Shh, now, you go to sleep, there's a good girl" she whispered to Anielle, who immediately snuggled back down beneath her baby blanket. The person at the door knocked again, longer this time. She checked the clock anxiously. Surely, Draco had not finished his practice early? He hadn't before. Holding her baby daughter securely, she crossed the room to open the door. Hermione was shocked; her eyes were wide as saucers. She tightened her grip on Anielle, placing a hand round her head as if trying to hide her away. She looked at the two very familiar boys stood in the doorway of the Common Room; one with a shock of black hair and glasses, the other long and lanky with flaming red hair. They both smiled casually at her, unaware of her sudden inward shocked panic.

"H-Harry – Ron – w-what are you doing here?" she gasped.


	24. Starting to Explain

Hermione stared at the two boys stood in front of her. She couldn't believe it. How did they get in here? It was supposed to be password-protected. How on earth did they get the password? Hadn't she told them that they couldn't come here? Luckily, though, neither of them appeared to have noticed Anielle. Afraid that they might see her, Hermione put a hand around her daughters' head as if trying to hide her face.Her fingers absent-mindedly stroked Anielle's soft mop of hair. She turned away from them.

"You've got to go. You can't stay here. I'm sorry" she started to explain, shaking her head. Her brown curls tumbled around her shoulders with the movement.

"Hermione, is something wrong?" Ron asked, taking a step forward from the door.

"No. You've just got to go" she repeated. Her grip on Anielle tightenned. If they were still here when Draco came back from his Quidditch practice...

She turned back towards them. Harry was still in the doorway, looking baffled, his brow furrowed in confusion. Hermione felt Anielle stir in her arms, and she froze for a milisecond. Thankfully, she gave a little whine, barely audible, she hoped, and settled back to sleep. Hermione prayed that she wouldn't wake up any time soon.

"I'm really sorry. You just can't stay here. I've-I've got things to do" she said, turning her head in the direction of the coffee table in front of the sofa. She walked towards them, ushering Ron back to the door and out. "I'll explain everything when it's time" her voice was shaky and broken, full of worry, full of concern. She didn't want to do this; they were her friends. But she had her family to think about. And her future. Anielle's future.

Shr blinked back tears desperately from her chocolate brown eyes. The fire spitted and crackled in the awkward silence. She musn't cry, not now. Harry noticed her attempts to hold back her watering eyes, and his own green eyes followed Hermione's gaze. They came to rest on Anielle. His eyes widenned. _Don't say anything _she mouthed to him _please, don't say anything_, shaking her head fiercely, determindely. Her chesnut curls bounced around her dressing-gown-clad shoulders. Harry frowned again in puzzlement. She pulled Anielle closer to her chest, so that her head was resting on her shoulder. Hermione could feel her silky blonde hair, her soft snowy skin against her cheek. Her breath was a faint whisper on her exposed neck. Her eyes welled up again, tears clinging to her brown lashes.

"I'm sorry" she said for the third time that night. She hoped that that one simple, five-letter word would work against her two friends.

Hastily wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her dressing gown, she saw her friend's faces fall with disappointment. She knew they'd come especially to see her. They'd probably stolen the password from a couple of Slytherins whose conversation they were eavesdropping on. She hadn't wanted to upset them. It was just something that had to be done, and quickly.

Footstpes sounded outside the room. Hermione glanced at the clock out of the corner of her eye. She swallowed. Draco was back from Quidditch practice. She looked up in time to see him come up the short flight of steps to the door of the room, and he stopped in his tracks, startled, when he saw Harry and Ron.

"What the-?" he began, his grey eyes moving from Harry to Ron to Hermione to Anielle and back again. He looked at her. She bit her lip and made a shrugging movement with her shoulders. She started, to say, _I'm sorry_, but when she opened ner mouth to speak he just shook his head. Ron was staring at Draco as if he were some particularly nasty insect. Hermione wasn't surprised.

"What's going on?" Ron demanded. "Why are you being so secretive?" his voice was angry, upset, hurt. Hermione's eyes glazed over. _Not now_ she prayed _not now, some other time. I've got too much going on..._

"Should we tell them?" Draco's own voice cut above her thoughts, quiet and equally concerned. Hermione lowered her eyes to the floor. What about everything else? What they talked about? How they _had_ to keep Anielle a secret or risk losing their lives...and their daughter's life...? Didn't that mean anything?

"I don't know" she replied, still looking at the floor. "I suppose they'll have to know eventually anyway. But it's really dangerous to let them know..." her voice trailed off in silence. It was Harry's time to make a comment.

"Let us know what?" he enquired, stepping forward. "Hermione? What on earth are you talking about?" Hermione sighed.

"Ok. We'll tell you. Won't we?" she looked up at Draco, and her met his own grey ones.He swallowed with difficulty, and then nodded slowly, almost reluctantly.

"Alright" he said. "We'll tell them. They ought to know".

She turned to her two best friends, though she wasn;t sure whether they'd be her best friends any more once she'd explained everything.

"You'd better sit down, you two" she said. They were about to get a very big shock.


	25. They'll Come Round

The entire room was drowned in an awkward silence. Neither of the four students knew what to say or do next. Harry and Ron sat gawping at Hermione, unable to believe the story she had just told them. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure herself whether they were going to believe her or not. After a few seconds, Draco was the first to speak.

"I'll go and put Anielle to bed" he said, and Hermione handed her over to him. Then he left up the flight of stairs leading up to his bedroom. As sson as his back was turned and the door was shut firmly behind him, Harry turned on Hermione.

"_What? _You and Malfoy have a _daughter_? And your _dating_ him? Why didn't you tell us?" he demanded, his green eyes blazing with anger and hurt.

"I-I told you, we _couldn't_ tell anyone because it's not safe" came Hermione's reply. Her expression was pained, upset, upset because she'd hurt her two best friends.

"Not _safe?_ What, don't you trust us? We're your friends!" Harry exclaimed. Hermione was frozen to the spot. This was not how she imagined their reaction to be. For the second time that night, she bit her lip and fought back the tears threatenning to fall from her eyes. She shook her head miserably.

"No, it's not that I don't trust you...we explained about this...the three of us are in danger, I _said_..." Hermione's voice trailed off, and she put a hand to her forehead. Her head was throbbing. She couldn't stp herself from crying any longer. She sank into an armchair nearby and burried her head in her hands, her shoulders heaving with her frightenned sobs. Harry and Ron just looked at each other.

"Now look what you did" Ron hissed bitterly, glancing over at Hermione. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but his attention was distracted by a door openning and closing above them. He turned round to see Draco coming out of his bedroom. He came down the stairs, saw Hermione crying, and immediately glared at Harry and Ron. He went over to the chair where she was sitting and sat down himself on the arm of it. His eyes did not leave Harry or Ron as he spoke, his voice cold and hard.

"What d'you do to her, Potter? Or you, for that matter" he nodded in Ron's direction.

"We didn't do anything. It's you that's _done_ something" Ron said harshly. Draco's eyebrows went up. He turned to face Hermione and put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him and dried her eyes with her sleeve.

"Is she asleep?" she whispered to him, her voice still shaking from crying. He nodded in reply. She sniffed hard, then looked at Harry and Ron.

"I know this is all a bit hard to believe" she said, gaining more confidence. "But I swear, I never knew anything about it before October. In fact, if I hadn't found Anielle's birth certificate I'd never had known about it at all" Hermione placed her hands in her lap. Draco moved his hand to put his arm around her shoulders. Hermione's eyes glistenned with pre-existing tears in the light of the flickering fire, still burning low in the grate. She started to feel warm, so she undid the belt of her dressing-gown and pulled it off her shoulders, showing her bare arms in a cream scoop neck vest.

"I'm sorry" she said. "I just couldn't tell you, for our safety as well as Anielle's" she lowered her eyes to the floor. "You see, Voldemort's going to try and kidnap her from us. I don't know how, or when, or where, even, but I know he is. Tha'ts why we've got to make sure she's OK here" she turned to Draco, who had been watching Harry and Ron the whole time.

"Yeah" he said, his voice in a different tone to a few minutes ago, when he had accused Harry and Ron of uspetting Hermione. "She's right, and it's true, no matter how much you want to believe it's not". Hermione blinked slowly. She was glad that Draco had stuck up for her, backed up her story. She was glad that he was sitting next to her, holding her, when she badly needed comforting. She gave a weak smile.

"Now" she spoke again. "There's one thing you're going to have to do for us" she said.

"Not tell anyone" Harry answered. Hermione nodded.

"Exactly. Don't tell anyone. It's a complete secret. Like I said, Ginny already knows, so it's OK around her. But no-one else, do you understand?" she looked at them. "Ron? You won't tell anyone?"

"OK, OK. I won't tell" came his reply.

"Harry?"

"I won't tell" he said. Hermione breathed heavily. _Finally_ she thought. _I knew they'd come round once we explained everything to them_.

"Thanks, you two. You really are good friends" her smile broadened. Draco yawned from next to her.

"I'm going to bed" he said.

"OK" Hermione answered. "Goodnight" she kissed him softly, and he left once more to go to his bedroom.

"Hermione?" Ron asked.

"Yes?"

"Just for the record...you didn't sleep with him, did you?"

"Oh, Ron! No!" Hermione laughed. Something she hadn't done in a while.


	26. The Parenthood Potion

At breakfast the next morning, as she sat with Harry and Ron, Hermione felt somehow distanced from her two friends. Maybe it was the fact that they now knew her and Draco's secret - well, half of it, anyway. Hermione was all too well aware that she had only told her friends half of the story, and had left out the information that she and Draco were dating. She'd decided on that night that she would let them come to terms with Anielle first, and then slowly let them know about her forbidden relationship. _It's for the best_ her mind had told her. _Do it in stages, that way they won't get too mad too quickly about it_.

Spooning cereal into her mouth, Hermione watched Harry and Ron closely. They were talking animatedly, heads together, though Hermione could not hear what they were saying. She took a sip of pumpkin juice, glancing around the Hall as she did so. Replacing her goblet on the table, she reached over to take the _Prophet_ that was in front of Ron. She scanned the front page with eagerness, though she found no article of interest. Casting the paper aside, she pulled her bag from under the table and openned it, rummaging around for her Transfiguration textbook. Finding it, she placed it on the table with a loud _smack_. Ron looked up at the sudden noise.

"Hermione, you're not reading _again_? We don't have Transfiguration till this afternoon!" he exclaimed. Hermione took no notice.

"I, unlike _some_, Ron, _want_ to get good grades in my schoolwork" she replied, her nose in the air in a mocking way. When she saw Ron's face she broke into peals of laughter.

"Oh, Ron, I'm joking!" she answered. Ron raised an eyebrow, but said no more and went back to his conversation with Harry. Hermione shook her head to herself. Turning to the index page of her book, she looked for Advanced Human Transfiguration in the long list. It was difficult; it was quite an old textbook and in some places the ink had faded and worn out, and the edges of the pages were yellow and curled inwards. Hermione tried to smooth them out, peering closely at the parchment so that her nose was almost touching the book. It hurt her eyes to look so close at it, and she eventually retreated, shutting the book and putting it back into her bag. She would take another look using a magnifying glass in the library during her free period.

The bell for morning classes sounded clear and loud in the Hall, and Haryr, Ron and Hermione stood up simultaneously and made their way towards the big oak doors that lead out into the Entrance Hall. Their first class was Potions with the Slytherins - something Ron and Harry were not happy about - which was down in the dungeons underneath the castle. The three friends went off along a narrow corridor, down a flight of steps, along another corridor, down another flight of steps and took an immediate right, and found themselves waiting directly in front of Professor Snape's classroom. Several of their classmates had also arrived the same time, including Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, the Patil twins and a group of Slytherins Hermione had often seen hanging round the Quidditch pitch during Gyrffindor's team practice. The door opened, and the students started to file in and take their places.

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"Right" came Professor Snape's voice from the front of the classroom. "Today, we shall be studying the properites and usage of a Parenthood Potion, used to detect whether an individual has or has not had a child" he pointed one, long-nailed finger towards the blackboard. "I want you all to copy this into your books, _without talking_, while I finalize my sample of the Potion up at my desk. Anyone who sounds a peep will loose ten points from their house and stay behind after classes for detention. Am I clear?" there was a faint grumble and a lot of ruffling as Hermione, Harry, Ron and the rest of class got out their parchment and quills and started copying down the information Snape had instructed.

_...When properly used, the Parenthood Potion can detect, from any cell in the body, whether or not an individual has had a child, and this life range can provide results from 10-15 back in a person's life. Once the individual has ingested the Potion, if he or she has parented a chil, he or she will then collapse unconscious for a short time. The Parenthood Potion is extremely concentrated and will not have reversed action against Transfiguration Charms, Secrey Charms and Concelament Charms. However, if not brewed properly the side effects of this Potion include drowsiness, short-term loss of memory, hallucination and confusion. _

Hermione finished writing and put donw her quill. Parenthood Potions souned rather ridiculous to her, but also very worrying indeed. She imgained how much trouble it would cause if she were to accidentally take the Potion. Everyone would know she was a mother! The very thought sent shivers of fear down her spine. If that information should fall into the wrong hands...she would for sure be expelled. Cutting into her thoughts, Snape spoke again, a certain discomforting chill in voice that Hermione did not need in the possible circumstances.

"As you can see, the true workings of the Parenthood Potion are regrettably dangerous and potentially revealing, but information alone is not enough. So, in order for you to fully realize the strenght of this Potion, I will therefore ask one of you to come up to my desk and sample it. Seeing as you are stll only at school the chances of the Potion processing positive results is very rare, but still...I shall need a willing student...let me see...ah, Miss Granger. Would you come up here immediately?"

As soon as Snape said the words, Hermione's blood froze. She was rigd with fear and shock. No. No, not her. Someone else. She couldn't go up there! If she drank the Potion, Anielle wouldn't be safe! _Think of an excuse, Hermione_ she willed herself. _Anything, any excuse, ANYTHING, JUST DON'T DRINK THE POTION! _She glanced to her left, where Draco was sitting a little way from her, on the Slytherin side of the classroom. All colour that had been present in his already pale face had drained from it, and he was staring at Snape wide-eyed with disbelief. Hermione was not surprised.

"Miss Granger?" Snape pressured. "Are you going to come up here and take this Potion, or are you seemingly incapable of removing yourself from your seat because some imbecile has taken the time to glue you to it?" his thin lip curled in a sneer. A few people sniggered at his comment. Shakily, drowned in fear and increasing worry, Hermione staggered up from her chair, scraping it back noisily. All eyes were on her. Her palms sweated furiously underneath the sleeves of her robes. She bit her lip nervously as she made her way to Professor Snape's desk. He held out the tiny vial of blood-red potion. Her hands shook as she took it from him and uncapped the minute bottle. She took one more look around the room before raising the openning to her lips. Draco was still staring at her, his face now a sickenning colourless grey. She didn't blame him. She was feeling quite ill herself.

In one, frightenned gulp, she drained the vial of the potion. It tasted sugary sweet on her lips and she was sure she could sense a faint essence of honey. Her heart thumped under her school blouse. _Please let the Potion be faulty, please let it not work, please let it not work, please let it not work..._

She felt an odd, swooping sensation in her stomach, and no sooner had the words had come into her head, she had collapsed to the floor in a dead faint, in front of the entire class, who were now gaping with their mouths open at her unconscious form in front of Snape's desk. Only one question was in their minds; _does Hermione have a baby_?


	27. Not Expelled

Hermione lay in a white-sheeted bed in the hospital wing, wide awake and restless. She'd not long regained consciousness, and her head was throbbing - but not with pain. The all- too- real memory of her drinking the vial of blood-red Parenthood Potion was clear in her mind, and the very idea of Professor Snape knowing her secret made her quiver. No doubt he would tell the other teachers...McGonagall would know that she and Draco had lied to her...they would most definitely get expelled for what they'd done...it was against school rules to keep an infant inside the castle without notice, or the Head's permission, for that matter...

Just at that moment, the hospital doors swung open and Professor McGonagall stalked in in her usual manner, head held high, sqaure spectacles perched on the end of her pointed nose. Behind was Draco, trying to look anywhere but directly at his Headmistress. She knew that there would be trouble. Professor McGonagall came over to her bedside, and out of thin air conjured two wooden chairs. Draco sat down almost instantly, and McGonagall took the other chair beside him. Hermione sat up a little straighter, her shoulders back. She willed herself to stay confident.

"Miss Granger, I assume you know why I am here?" was the first thing Professor McGonagall asked her.

"Yes, Professor" she replied timidly, worry forming inside her like a brick wall being laid.

"Good. I need you to fully understand the situation, you two. It is a very serious matter. Professor Snape came to me this morning after you, Miss Granger, had collapsed during his class after taking a dose of Parenthood Potion, is that correct?" she said briskly, peering at Hermione from over the rim of her glasses. Hermione nodded.

"And, as you know quite clearly, this meant the Potion was positive. Am I correct?" she looked first at Hermione, then at Draco. They both nodded simultaneously.

"Professor, we can explain..." Draco started to say, but McGonagall raised her hand to silence him.

"There will be no need to explain, Mr.Malfoy. I have here all the official documents from St. Mungo's Hospital and the Ministry of Magic, which I was able to obtain by Floo Powder urgently this morning. It states quite clearly what the both of you have been up to in the past three months" Hermione blinked slowly, pushing a curl of hair from her dark eyes. McGonagall carried on.

"You have been keeping a child, your own daughter, inside the castle since the start of the year. This in itself is breaking more than fifteen school rules, and I myself are astounded that you didn't turn yourselves in. You are in the highest position renowned in the school, and I did not expect such inappropriate behaviour from either of you" her fury was clean in her voice. It made Hermione shiver with fear. She started to feel ill again.

"Of course" Professor McGonagall said. "Surely you know what the punishment for this type of behaviour is?" came the Professor's voice yet again.

"Yes" Draco said quitely. "You're going to expel us" he forced himself to look at her, his grey eyes showing his obvious misery. To Hermione's surprise, McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

"Not today, Mr.Malfoy. I am willing enough to allow you to keep caring for your daughter inside the castle, but for your actions, fifty points will be taken from each of your houses, and you will both serve detention tonight. Eight o'clock, my office. Is that understood?"

The two of them muttered 'yes, Professor' disdainfully. Hermione could not believe it. Fifty points, _and_ detention! Mind you, she knew it was the right thing to do. They _had_ broken a lot of school rules. She supposed it was for the best to be punished. With the swish of her emerald-green robes, McGonagall stood up and swept out of the hospital wing. Howver, Draco stayed next to her. Once he had checked McGonagall had left, he moved his chair closer, and took Hermione's hand in his own.

"Look, Hermione, I'm sorry. I should have done something to stop you taking that Potion" he said. A smile played around Hermione's lips.

"There's no need to apologise. It wasn't your fault, in fact, it was _my_ fault. I should have thought up a reasonable excuse so I wouldn't hav to drink it" she replied. She did not want Draco taking the blame for McGonagall finding out about Anielle.

"Actually, didn't you realise something about what she just told us?" Draco asked. Hermione shook her head.

"No" she said. "Why?"

"Well, she didn't mention the fact that we'd lied to her weeks ago. Remember?"

Hermione remembered. They'd said that Anielle was his sister, and that they had to take care of her because Draco's mother was too ill to do it herself. She smiled at the thought that they'd swindled a teacher into believing them. In the distance, the bell sounded for the next class.

"I've got to go" he said, standing up and giving Hermione a kiss on her forehead.

"Bye" she said. She watched him leave through the solid oak doors of the hospital, then burrowed back down under her sheets, looking up at the bright white ceiling of the room. Hermione stayed smiling as she watched the old strip lights blink and flicker occasionally. She pulled her blankets up to her armpits, lying back on her pillows, and just lay their, musing over the satisfaction of lying to McGonagall, and the thought of being able to keep Anielle in the castle. She was happy. The detention and loss of her hard-earned house points didn't bother her. She was just too happy to care about those things. She had a beautiful daughter and a caring boyfriend. What more could she want?


	28. Never Let Go

Madame Pomfrey discharged Hermione from the hospital wing later on that afternoon, and Hermione found herself walking in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. Classes were over - she had missed Arithmancy, Transfiguration and Charms. Surprisingly, none of this seem to concern her in the slightest. Looking out of the large windows along the corridor as she passed them, Hermione saw the sky already starting to fade into orange and yellow, even though it was only ten past five. Daylight was beginning to minimise, and the glow of the torches in their brackets on the limestone walls gave a thick atmoshperic feel to her surroundings.

Brushing her hair from her face, she turned an immediate left and went down another corridor leading to the Charms rooms, where she would have spent the last hour of the school day had it not been for the mornings' Potion class' events. A heavy surge of worry filled her as she reminded herself yet again that everyone knew she had a child - well, everyone who was in that class, hopefully. She had a sickenning feeling that the Slytherins might have passed round the information to the rest of the school. If that was the case, then she would have to avoid them as best she could.

Passing an upward flight of steps and heading down another, Hermione came to notice a group of fourth-year Ravenclaws with their heads together in a corner. None of them seemed to have noticed her presence, and Hermione fought against the urge to reprimand them for dawlding in the corridors. She seemed to have forgotten her Head duties in the constant rush of other things that needed doing. As she neared them, she overheard a few snippets of their conversation, with upsetting results.

"...yeah, I know! I mean, I don't know if it's true, that's just what Fletchley said" said one voice.

"Fletchley isn't always reliable to tell the truth, Hilda" came another.

"Hermione Granger, as well! Who would have guessed she had a kid cooped up in this school? She's _Head Girl_, For God's Sake!"

"And McGonagall didn't even punish her for it, did she? Who knows, she might even have another one on the way!"

Her heart raced, thumping madly against her ribs like a bongo drum. She felt ill again. So, she was right. The Slytherins _had_ been spreading the news about her. Great, just what she needed. And now, these girls...well, she couldn't believe it. Thanks to the Slytherins, soon enough the whole school would think she was a loser, an outcast, for being a teenage mother...

By some unintentional reason, she found herself turning off from the corridor leading up to the Tower, and heading back up a flight of steps instead. She suddenly didn't want to go there any more. If the Ravenclaws' comments were anything to go on, then the Gryffindor's reactions would be terrifying. Their remarks alone brought a heavy, queasy feeling to her stomach. She felt sharp tears pricking her eyes, though she did not know why she wanted to cry. Steering herself on, she went along the highly-polished Staff Corridor, were most of the teachers' offices were, and then along another which took her to the base of the stairs going up to the Heads Common Room. Hermione had learnt that there was more ways than one to reach the Common Room.

She reached the sloid, dark oak door of the Common Room, raised her fist ready to knock, then decided to just open the door instead. She sincerely hoped that Draco was in, and not out somewhere in the grounds with his 'friends', who he didn't really like at all but went around with anyway. Turning the doorknob, she pushed the door open, with difficulty, feeling weaker now that she had done before. Stepping in, she saw that the main room was empty, except for a pile of books on the table that Hermione had left there a few days ago, and some screwed-up pieces of parchment.

Shutting the door behind her, she dropped her bag onto the crimson carpet by the sofa. Looking up, she saw that Draco's bedroom door was open, but could not see if he was there. She decided to go up and see for herself. She climbed the short flight of steps, crossed the landing, and went into the room.

It looked like a bomb had exploded in there. Hermione looked around, astonished. Surely it hadn't looked like this last time she saw it? There was no sign of Draco himself anywhere. Anielle was fast asleep in her cot - she could hear her slow, heavy breathing as she slept, tiny hands curled into fists. Ignoring the constant nausea she felt inside, she strode over to the bathroom door, which was open. She peered round the door, but the room was empty. She noticed that the medicine cabinet above the sink had been emptied out, its contents piled up on the toilet tank. Hermione frowned. What had been going on in here?

Footsteps sounding behind her distracted her from her thoughts. She whirled round, making Draco, who was standing behind her, jump. She cracked a smile when she saw the look on his face.

"Christ, Hermione! Don't _do_ that!" he said darkly, but Hermione knew he was joking, because the next minute he laughed. She walked over to him, her face an expression of upset and worry. He knew what was going through her mind.

Leaning her head against his chest, tears pricked at her eyes. She sniffed hard, and he didn't pull away, just enveloped her with his arms. How come all the good things in her life had to be spoilt? She thought of the recurring visions, the sickness, the feeling of anxiety that they would be found out...and know, the Parenthood Potion had been the tip of the iceberg. As the girls' words came back to her, she found herself clinging to the fabric of his robes tightly, and that her cheeks were wet. She did not know how long she had been crying, but she wasn't standing up any more. Instead, she was sitting on Draco's bed, and he still had his arms around her.

"What are we going to do?" she whispered hoarsely, her voice a teary squeak. He reached up to wipe a tear from her eyes.

"It's my fault. I should have stopped you from taking that potion" was his only reply. Hermione shook her head fiercely. She wouldn't let him take the blame for this, no way.

"It's _not_ your fault. It could have happened to anyone" she said.

"Yes, but it happened to _you_, to _us_. I should have done _something_" he answered. Fresh tears fell down her face.

"Why has everything gone wrong?" she exclaimed, frustrated, upset. "Everyone knows, and now girls from other houses are saying horrible things about me" she cried, looping her arms around his neck and crying into his shoulder. He only tightened his hold on her.

"There's something else" he said reluctantly. "I have a good idea who did it, and I just know it was her" he said. Hermione looked up, and her eyes met his own blue-grey pair. With her sleeve, she wiped her eyes carefully.

"I've looked everywhere, and I just can't find it...I can't find Anielle's birth certificate. The genuine one, the one I _hid_ away" he said. Hermione's eyes widened.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let anyone in, but Pansy was here earlier...I think it was her. She went upstairs" he said. His eyes were dark with apology, with self-disappoiment and shame. Hermione looked at him, long and hard, staring right into his eyes.

Then her tears dried up, and her mouth found his, and they were kissing, hard and passionate. He'd moved his hands from her waist to her back and up her school shirt. Her whole body shook and tingled with the warm touch of his fingertips against her cool skin, and she rested her hand on his belt buckle as they stayed, entwined, for she didn't know how long. It was only when they broke apart, lost for words and gasping for breath, did she realise how she really felt. She loved him.

She reached up to sweep his long fringe from his eyes, and her fingers stopped short. There, under the whorls of her fingertips, was a dark, angry bruise on the right hand side of his forehead.

"Draco..." she gasped. He lowered his hands by his sides.

"Pansy did it, when she was here. Said I deserved it" he said forlornly, pulling away from her touch. His fringe fell back, hiding the bruise, the evidence, of what appeared to Hermione to be a pretty hurtful afternoon. Her heart lurched, and she pulled him closer, resting her forhead against his own. She could feel the warmth radiating off him.

It was several minutes, before one of them spoke.

"I love you" she whispered, his hand tight in hers.

"I know" was his reply. "I love you too".


	29. A New Vision

The fire in the Heads' Common Room had been lit a while ago, and was now blazing merrily in the chrome fireplace. The dancing flames spread warmth around the walls, igniting the tapestries and making the brass doorknobs gleam. Spread out on the table in front of Hermione was a number of papers, books and broken quills, and amongst them stood various bottles of coloured ink and screwed-up pieces of parchment. She was working on her Charms Essay, which was due in on Monday (it was then Saturday), and was finding it extremely difficult. Normally, Draco would help her, but he had gone to bed earlier that night after an intense Quidditch training session.

She studied the yellowed parchment hard, frowning, quill poised in mid-air. Black ink dripped from the tip and onto the open pages of _Advanced Charms: Wand Skills_. Hermione carefully blotted the ink from the paper using a tissue stuffed in her pocket. She had never remembered homework being this difficult. Perhaps it was the fact that she was tired, from comforting Anielle most of the afternoon - she had been particularly grizzly and Hermione didn't have a clue why. It was only when Draco swooped in to help her out that she could finally get some peace. Looking at the pages of her textbook, she scanned the information for anything useful with which she could write her essay. Professor Flitwick had said it shouldn't be too long, about a side of parchment, but he wanted thorough detail. The essay was to be about the importance of wand movement accuracy when casting advances Charms, such as Concealment Charms. Hermione sighed.

The fire crackled in the distance, and even though it was warm, Hermione could feel the cool night air wafting in through the open window. Looking out of it, Hermione saw the dark, inky sky, dotted with thousands of tiny silver stars. She turned back to her essay. Her head was aching from all the thinking she was doing. Placing her quill on the table next to her textbooks, she leant back in her chair, head resting against the back of the soft leather. She found herself turning her vision to the ceiling, where the heavy brass chandelier hung in the centre of the vast cream-coloured space. Hermione had switched the lights off long ago, as to fully enjoy the glow of the firelight. The only other form of light in use was a small table lamp, draped in white cloth. Hermione closed her eyes, breathing slowly and rhythmically.

_She spun round, and saw a long, dark corridor lined with wood panels stretching endlessly in front of her. Somewhere, footsteps sounded, but where from she did not know. The sound echoed, passing through the walls and into her ears. Someone was inside the house._

_The creak of a stair made her jump - it was closely followed by the strong thumping of feet on carpet, and from there she heard the high, terrified voice of a woman._

_"No! I don't know anything! I swear! It-it was Lucius' bidding, not mine! My Lord...please, let me go!" it was only from the name 'Lucius' that she knew is must be Narcissa Malfoy, and that she was inside her house. She turned to face the noise. In the lamplight, she saw a tall, cloaked figure coming down the stairs, dragging a smaller figure behind him. The taller of the two, she knew, from the glint of red eyes from beneath a hood, was Lord Voldemort. _

_"Come, woman! You will not speak a word until we return, do you understand? Utter a single syllable, and you will be going the same way as your filthy wretch of husband!" Voldemort's clear, patronizing voice filled the room. Narcissa was sobbing, her long hair obsuring her pale face. He dragged her on, right past where she was standing. She felt the rustle of his cloak as his figure passed her own, and she could sense Narcissa's reluctance to co-operate, her fear, of being in the presence of her former Master._

_A door opened and closed, but not before a cold, ringing laughter echoed into the silence of the house. _

Hermione was woken by a loud knocking on the door. She was shocked through - this had been her first vision in weeks, months, even. She sat bolt upright, to find herself soaked in a cold sweat and her skin clammy. Standing up, she went to answer the door, trying her best to ignore her reeling thoughts, her dizziness, as she stood up a bit too quickly. The person outside knocked on the door again.Hermione quickened her pace.

Reaching for the brass doorknob, she pulled open the door, to find Pansy Parkinson standing on the step. Her beady black eyes, no longer full of hatred and malevolence, were glassy and tear-filled. Hermione looked at her in confusion.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked, her throat dry and her voice limited in strength. Her heart was thumping furiously underneath her white school shirt, her head was pounding.

"I..." Pansy started, but could not finish her sentence. Instead, she succumbed to lowering her eyes to the floor. She held out one pale, shaking hand. It took Hermione a moment to realise what it was she was holding. Anielle's birth certificate.

"You took it?" she snapped, her voice regaining some authority now, though her stomach felt like she had a stone in it. She chose to ignore this.

"Yes" Pansy said. Hermione reached out and took the certificate from Pansy, with a little more force than she intended. Pansy whimpered.

"And why did you bring it back here?" Hermione inquired.

"Blaise told me to. Said it was wrong of me to steal important documents like that" she replied, sniffing.

Hermione considered this for a moment, running through things in her head. Pansy had brought back the stolen certificate after Blaise Zabini had told her it was wrong of her to take it. Was Pansy really that easily led? Why, not three months ago did she tell Hermione to keep her hands off Draco and stay away from her. It was all a bit hard to believe.

"He threatenned me" she said then. "He threatenned to hurt me more than he'd done already" Pansy kept her eyes to the floor, but Hermione knew she was close to tears.

"Tell Draco I'm sorry" she said quitely, then turned to walk away. Hermione shut the door behind her, the certificate closed in her hand. She winced as her stomach constricted painfully. Trudging over to the table, she closed her Charms textbook and began packing up her quills and ink. She let her mind slipt to the newest vision, where Lord Voldemort had taken Draco's mother from her house, and, Hermione presumed, was going to hold her hostage somewhere as he had done to Hermione. She swallowed. Should she tell him what was going on?

Putting her things bag into her school bag, she slung it over her shoulder and went upstairs to drop her bag off in her room. Then, she crossed the landing over to Draco's room. Quitely, she pushed the door open, trying not to make a sound in case he was sleeping.

When she walked in, she found that he wasn't in bed at all, but sitting on the end of it, staring deadpan at the wall opposite. She knew, instantly, that something had to be wrong. She crossed the carpet and sat down next to him. He didn't flinch.

"What's the matter?" she asked softly, placing a hand on his arm. He turned to face her. Traces of tears were visible on his face. Hermione tighened her hold.

"I can't sleep" came the reply. "I'm too scared to leave Anielle on her own, in case something happens to her" he said. Hermione knew how he felt - when she had experienced Lord Voldemort's chilling conversation with Lucius Malfoy, she had thought the same thing. She placed her head on his shoulder, breathing heavily. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her. The heat radiating from his body immediately made Hermione feel a whole lot safer.

And there they sat, for a long time, holding on to each other, before Hermione whispered, for the second time,

"_I love you"_

This time, no reply came, for only silent tears fell down his face as he kept his hold onto Hermione.


	30. The Invasion

At breakfast, both of them found it difficult to rid their minds of the previous night's events. Hermione was silently debating whether or not she should come clean about her recurring visions, and about her relationship with Draco. As she absent-mindedly, scanned her textbooks laid out in front of her, Hermione was eagerly listenning out for any comments students had to say about her. A pair of third-year Hufflepuffs had given her dirty looks when she'd walked in, a few others had wrinkled their noses or shot daggers at her back with their eyes. When she'd sat down at her place by the Gyrffindor table, she swore she heard a nearby Ravenclaw hiss 'That's her!"

Hermione looked up from her books, peering around the hall at the chattering and laughing students. She sighed, then turned round to wards the Slytherin table. She managed to catch his eyes, and they both smiled. Pansy Parkinson was talking to him but he wasn't listenning. Hermione was not suprised.

Taking a sip of pumpkin juice, she picked up her fork and started to eat. Harry and Ron were talking quitely, their heads together, opposite her. They were too quiet to hear what they were saying exactly, but Hermione caught the words 'map' and 'cloak', so she knew they must be planning something which meant sneaking out after hours. Typical. Hermione cleared her throat.

"I have to tell you something" she said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's important, you ought to know" Hermione gathered up all the confidence she could muster, but could not stop the nerves showing through. She bit her lip, anxious, tapping her foot on the stone floor.

"What is it?" Harry asked. Ron, who was busy stuffing a roll of parchment which looked suspiciously like the Marauder's Map into his schoolbag, looked up and eyed Hermione quizzically. She sighed, hoping that Harry and Ron would understand.

"I haven't actually told you the whole truth about Anielle" she said, shoulders drooping as if the weight of her secrets were heavy in reality. Her two friends just looked at her, bewildered. Ron even frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in effort to make sense of it all.

"Erm, well, erm...you can't tell anyone, but...Draco and I are together" she rushed these last words, her body heating up. She felt her skin glow rosy with embarassment. Harry gaped at her, mouth open, unable to belive what she'd just said. Ron's frown deepened, and his face creased in what could only be anger. Hermione shuddered inwardly, preparing herself for the worst. Luckily, the bell for morning lessons rung at that very moment, loud and clear in the Great Hall. Without a word, and before any of them could reply or object, Hermione shot up from the table, swung her bag over her shoulder, and walked quickly and purposefully out of the door.

Her step was brisk and important as she marched down the Entrace Hall corridor and up three flights of stairs, turned right, and then went up another two flights of stairs before reaching the solid oak door of the Head's Common Room. She grasped the doorknob and pushed the door open, only to find that it creaked uncomfortably and caught on a loose floorboard under the carpet. Or was it her imagination? She wasn't going to bother with lessons. Not for this morning, anyway. It was all too much for her to take. _Ever since Professor Snape made me drink the wretched Potion, everything's been going wrong!_ she wailed inside, tears pricking at her dark eyes. Hermione stared into the blackened embers of the once-burning fire. Her spirits rocketed downwards rapidly. Lying back in her chair, she brushed a curl of brown hair out of her equally brown eyes, and passed a hand over her face.

The second bell for morning lessons rung faintly in the distance. Hermione sighed and groaned softly. She was starting to get warm underneath her grey school jumper. Smoothing down her black pleated skirt, she desperately tried to think of something else, something less frightenning. She found it almost impossible. Every thought that entered her head came to her a happy thought, a pleasurable thought, but somehow she was able to make a connection with her growing problems and it worried her even more. Could there be any other way to rid her mind of these atrocities?

Narcissa Malfoy had been thought dead, she remembered. Draco thought she was dead. But Hermione knew otherwise, thanks to her recurring visions and dreams that she was forced to experience. Narcissa was being held hostage by Lord Voldermort at some unknown place, and, probably being tortured for information on her only son's whereabouts and plans. Hermione dreaed to think the kind of suffering Lord Voldermort might put her through to try to obtain this information. Would she give up, confess? Or would she protect her granddaughter's life with lies? Hermione did not know; she did not want to know, until it was the right time to find out.

She heard an almighty, loud crash and the sound of splintering glass. Immediately, she spun round in her seat, heart thumping wildly. Someone else was in the Common Room, only not in the main lounge. Upstairs. Hermione turned cold and clammy all over. Standing shakily up, her mind already awash with worry, she walked slowly and carefully up the flight of steps to hers and Draco's bedrooms. The noise seemed to be coming from Draco's bedroom. This frightenned her even more. Anielle was in there, sleeping supposedly peacefully. She started to feel very sick indeed, worse than she'd ever felt in her life.

With reluctance and fear, she walked over the little landing and pushed open the bedroom door, quiet as a mouse. She entered the room. What she saw made her blood freeze solid in her veins, her heart stopped beating. She saw the flat, snake-like nose, the red, glinting eyes, the eel-grey skin, under a dark hood of black. She saw the long, spindly fingers, clasped around a thin wand. She saw another cloaked figure, dressed in black, standing to the right. This figure was leering over Anielle's cot, about to snatch her in her sleep.

"Why, it seems the girl has come to rescue her child!" Lord Voldermort laughed cruelly. Tears filmed Hermione's eyes. "Welll, let's fix that, shall we?" he added. He took a menacing step towards Hermione, wand raised.

"Ava-!"

"_Expelliarmus!"_


	31. Threat and Attack

Hermione spun round just as red sparks from the disarmer's wand flew across the room, sending Lord Voldemort's own wand spinning out of his long, white-fingered hands and onto the floor with a clatter. His red eyes were narrowed, his flat nostrils flared. Draco was standing behind her, wand held aloft, and he was angrier than Hermione had ever seen him. He stook a step forward, then, with a deft flick of his wand, sent the Death Eater near Anielle's cot flying to the wall.

"_You-will-not-harm-her!"_ he shouted, his voice fierce. There was a _thud_ as the unknown person hit the stone wall; a mask on their face slipped, their hood fel backward. Hermione gasped, taking in the short dark hair, the beady black eyes. It was Pansy Parkinson.

"Draco, what-?"

She had no chance to say anything else, however, because Lord Voldemort then spoke over her words, his high, clear voice piercing every cell of Hermione's body.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" he glided across the carpet towards Draco. Surprisingly, he did not move a muscle, or say a word; he did nothing. Lord Voldemort raised his wand, which he had so effortlessly retrieved using a non-verbal, no-wand summoning charm, pointing it straight at his chest. This time, Hermione saw him flinch ever so slightly, a tiny movement. She was amazed at how brave he was being. Lord Voldemort was standing _right in front of him_, yet no fear showed on his face. Hermione's heart beat loudly in her own chest, her breathing slow and rasping. She was rooted to the spot, conscious all the time of Pansy, who was half out of it on the floor, and the silent yet deadly swish of the Dark Lord's cloak every time he moved.

"You don't scare me" Draco said. "not anymore. I won't let you hurt them, any of them" he gripped his wand a little tighter.

"_You don't scare me_" Voldemort mocked, standing back away from Draco. He laughed cruelly. "Think you're better than me, Malfoy? Think you're _smarter_ than me? Your mother did, and look what happened to her!" Lord Voldemort's voice rang out in the tense air of the room. Hermione's blood boiled. She was angry, upset, frightenned and worried all at the same time. She did not want Anielle to be hurt; but at the same time, she did not want Draco to be hurt, or killed, to protect them.

"My mother's dead" Draco spat "she did what she had to do. My father is was a monster - now, he deserved to die" Hermione could have sworn she heard his voice crack, as he spoke those last words. He was shaking so much, with anger or fear she couldn't tell, that Hermione thought he might faint.

"How dare you speak to me like that!" Voldemort bellowed, drawing back his wand, head held up high. "How dare you think you are of a higher class than I! You deserve to go the same way as your father, you insufferable brat. No wonder your parents never loved you! _Stupefy_!" Draco was shot backwards off his feet as Voldemort cast the disarming charm. That was the last straw. Hermione could not let Voldemort knock Draco about like a toy - she would do something about it, even thought her blood was frozen in her veins, her heart was in her mouth, and her throat was so dry it felt as if it were filled with rough gravel.

"Leave him alone!" she screamed hoarsely, her hands balled into fists. Voldemort turned to her; out of the corner of her eye, she could see Draco struggling to stand up from where he had landed, hard, on the floor.

"Shut up, you filthy Mudblood! I could easily finish you off, right here" he sneered coldly. "Yes, I could kill the both of you. But I'm not going to do that. And do you know why?" his voice was cold and menacing, clinging to Hermione's consciousness like a spider's web sticks to walls. He carried on, "I want your child. I want your child to raise as my own. And you will _not stop me from getting her!_" he yelled fiercely, swiping Hermione's face with his eel-grey hand. Reeling with shock, Hermione stumbled and fell over, hitting her head on the floor. Lord Voldemort had hit her. Was she to believe this? Looking to her right, she saw that Pansy had gone. A sharp _thwack_ and a sickenning _thud_ told Hermione that Pansy had just hit Draco as well. Voldemort strode over to where Anielle was still fast asleep in her cot. Hermione tied to lift her head, only to find that it spun wildly, making her feel sick. She let out a little moan as Voldemort reached into the cot and lifted Anielle out, holding her aloft as if she were some kind of bomb.

She tried to cry out, but Pansy's booted foot landed on her stomach at that very moment, a forceful and violent kick that made her gag and retch, doubled over, coughing. Once she was fully on the floor, Pansy kciked her in the head. Her skull exploded with pain, white-hot and burning, filling her brain. She saw spots in front of her eyes, flickering on and off like a torch running out of battery. And, like that battery, she was running out of strenght to keep herself conscious. Looking to her left weakly, she saw that Draco was lying already unconscious. There was something dark at the back of his head. Blood.

She heard footsteps, heavy footsteps, sounding up the stairs, on the landing, coming in through the door. Maybe two, three people. She was floating in and out of consciousness, her mind wandering, her head spinning viciously round and round, making her queasy, mkaing her stomach churn like cement mixer...

And then there was a scuffle, a child's cry, and the swish of a cloak. Muffled voices, but Hermione could neither see nor hear who they were. Her eyes were half-closed, drooping, drooping...and then she collasped, just like that, losing consciousness like a flame going out. In an instant.


	32. Anger

Lord Voldermort paced the cold, dark room insistently, his eyes flashing with anger. How could he have been defeated yet again in his attempt to steal the infant? He needed that child! That child was everything! And he had failed to retrieve the girl – again.

"How _dare_ Harry Potter interfere with my plans!" he roared, his lip-less mouth curling into a sneer. "How _dare_ I be fooled!" he turned on his heel towards Pansy Parkinson, who was standing, hood pulled low over her face, in the corner of the room.

"My Lord, I beg your utmost forgiveness for my foolishness. I have underestimated my loyalty" she said solemnly, bending forward in a slight bow. However, Lord Voldermort turned away from her to look out of the tiny, grimy window. Pale moonlight came in through the dirty glass. The sky was inky black outside, dotted with a million blinking stars. In the distance, the mountains were silhouetted against the night.

"Don't speak nonsense, girl! You have not been foolish. You have the most loyalty out of all of our comrades!" he spoke with amusement in his high, clear voice; Pansy lowered her hood, her shame now gone. Her black eyes shone with having been praised by her Master. He spoke again:-

"Pansy, if you will check on our prisoner? Fetch Wormtail – tell him to bring her to me" Lord Voldermort chuckled under his breath. "We will see what she has to say in the matter". Ah, yes – Narcissa Malfoy. His _hostage_. Presumed dead, the fragile young woman calling herself Draco Malfoy's mother had been living under close watch of her former master for many weeks. Until now, she had been of no use to the power-hunger wizard who named himself Lord Voldermort.

Within minutes of the door to the room closing behind the slim figure of Pansy, it re-opened, this time shadowing two other figures. Wormtail, stout and watery-eyed, held in a firm grip the slim arm of Narcissa Malfoy. Her face was white as chalk dust – her ocean blue eyes vacant and full of terror. A curtain of long, blonde hair veiled her slender neck, her narrow shoulders. She was once a beautiful woman, but years of terror, of control and of abuse, had aged her face. There were wrinkles around her eyes, bruised from crying. Fatigue and lack of sleep showed in her greying complexion. But He Who Must Not Be Named bore no sympathy.

"Ah, yes…our little _friend_. Shall we see what she has to say, Wormtail? Bring her to the centre!" Voldermort barked this last order with authority, with purpose. Wormtail obeyed at once; Narcissa was dragged to the middle of the room, forced to her knees before her husband's killer, her former master. Lord Voldermort drew his wand slowly, his spidery white fingers curving around the smooth wood with great care.

"Now" he began. "Do you wish to tell me why your son _dared_ cross paths with me tonight? Do you wish to tell me _how_ he had the _nerve_ to challenge _me?_" his voice grew louder. "DO YOU WISH TO TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW?" he bellowed angrily, making her flinch noticeably, reeling. Her eyes darted helplessly around the dank room. Then, as reluctant as a mouse might approach a hungry lion, she spoke.

"My Lord…Master, please…I do not know anything…I cannot tell you anything…it is Draco's choice, I did not tell him to do it….he…you-you tried to take away his child!" she sobbed, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. "You-you t-tried to t-take the m-most im-important th-thing in the w-world to him!" she wailed frantically. Lord Voldermort's anger excelled. She had no right to challenge him!

"_You stupid, stupid woman!"_ he yelled. _"You have no right to tell me what I can or cannot claim for myself! I want that child, woman, and I will stop at nothing, NOTHING, to get it!"_ his anger, his fury, was boiling inside him like hot water over a fire.

"B-but you can't! You cannot s-separate th-em! They a-are a f-f-family n-now!" she continued to sob frantically, her shoulder heaving with her deep intakes of breath. What she was saying was true; her son and his daughter were a family. And Hermione Granger. She knew that they could not be separated, would not be separated.

"You c-cannot t-take a child a-away from its p-parents!" she screamed, her voice high-pitched, tears forever streaming down her pale face.

"How dare you-_CRUCIO!" _Lord Voldermort pointed his wand straight at the weeping woman, and the effect was immediate. Narcissa sank to the floor in a wreckage of sobs, screaming in pain at the top of her voice. She shook from head to foot. Her blonde hair was splayed in a curtain across the rough wooden planks of the floor.

"_I will retrieve that child, woman! I will rob those foolish children of what is of most importance to them! And if it wasn't for Saint Potter, I would have killed them both and taken the child, TONIGHT!" _he screamed furiously above Narcissa's wails, his chin high, red demon-eyes glinting with power and madness.

He would get that child, whatever it took. Killing came easy to him. It was what he did best. As for the parents? Well, no child of his servitude would deserve a Mudblood for a mother, a cowardly weak father. The sooner he got rid of them, the better it would be for him.


	33. Hopes and Fears

"Hermione?" she heard someone whisper, quite hear to her. "Hermione?"

She struggled to open her eyes. She felt warm, very warm. Kind of warm and stuffy. Rubbing her eyes, she blinked slowly in the pale light. She found herself looking into a pair of green eyes.

"Harry!" she gasped croakily. Her mouth was still as dry as ever. "What happened?" she asked, then suddenly realising, "Oh My god, where's Anielle? Where's my little girl?" she said, her voice throaty yet frantic. Tears pricked her eyes, preparation for the worst.

"She's here Hermione" Harry said, reaching down and picking up a small bundle from a carry-cot on a chair. "She's alright, but she's been crying endlessly for about an hour. She wants you" Harry handed her over. Now, the tears that sparkled in Hermione's brown eyes were not grief, but joy and relief. Anielle was alright. But where was Draco? Hermione cradled her daughter in her arms, her soft baby head resting against Hermione's chest. She blinked back the tears pushing against her eyeballs. Her heart hammered in her chest, beating against her ribs as if to try and break free.

As if Harry could read Hermione's mind, he spoke again.

"Malfoy - well - erm, Hermione..." his voice trailed off. Her eyes filled with salty tears. No, it couldn't possibly be true. He couldn't possibly be dead. Could he? Her throat dried up. Her heart quickened its pace, beating so fast now it made her head spin and her stomach churn.

"What? What happened to him?" she enquired, her voice wobbly.

"He was transferred to St. Mungo's, Hermione, not long after I called McGonagall up the tower. She said he would need emergency treatment. He had quite a blow to the head, and, well, he's lost a lot of blood, and when they left with him I heard one of the Healers say that he was slipping into a coma" Harry gulped. He hadn't wanted to upset Hermione with this news.

Hermione blinked, swallowing hard. He was in a coma. He'd lost a lot of blood. Immediately her expected grief turned to fury. She blamed Pansy entirely. She was the one who had delivered the hefty kick to his head. It would be her fault entirely if he died. The very thought made her retch, sick to her stomach. She held Anielle closer to her body. Huge blue-grey eyes look up at her, full of love and happiness. It was enough to make Hermione cry.

She wept until she felt ill. Her head throbbed, her stomach hurt whenever she moved. She suddenly felt very alone. The nightmares scared her. Who would she turn to when fear took her over? She couldn't possibly face Ron - he was mad enough with her as it was for her relationship was Draco in the first place. But he loved her and she loved him. They both loved Anielle. They made each other happy. Wasn't that what counted? No the difference in their ranks, or wealth, or blood status. It didn't bother them, so why should it bother one of her very best friends? Hermione choked back more tears, stroking Anielle's soft blonde hair lovingly. Harry remained by her side, his arm around her slim shoulders. She leant back in the downy pillows. Harry placed his arm around her.

A few minutes of silence followed, broken only by Hermione sniffing hard, determined to stay strong. If she let herself go now, she would put herself in more danger than ever before. Lord Voldermort would search out vulnerability, and use it against her to retrieve Anielle. She couldn't possibly let that happen.

The hospital doors swung open then, a creak of un-oiled hinges and wood that needed polishing. Ron and Ginny came through them, both their faces white and intense. Hermione did not want to face them right now – she only wanted to be alone, if anything. She knew her friends meant well, but this was a problem for her and her only to face. She carefully wriggled free of Harry's grip, wiped her eyes on her sleeve, and turned to face them as best she could.

"Ginny knew, didn't she? You told her not to tell us" Ron said quietly when he reached her beside. Ginny took a chair from against the wall and sat down, her long red hair veiling her face like a curtain.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I was just so worried about you…I had to tell someone" Ginny replied to Ron's comment, not looking at anyone. Her brown eyes were cast down to the floor. Hermione breathed deeply, sighing.

"It's not your fault" she said. "I know you only meant to protect me. But I'm fine, really I am" Hermione's voice wobbled again as she spoke those last words. Was she _really_ fine? _Really_? Perhaps, perhaps not. Hermione leaned forwards, her shoulders rounded. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying again.

"Are you, Hermione?" Ron asked her. "Are you really OK?" Hermione shook her head.

"I don't know what to do. I'm scared. I'm so scared I'll lose both of them…" Hermione's shoulders shook as she sobbed, tears streaming down her face.

Ginny reached for her hand, and held it tightly. Harry tightened his grip round her shoulders. Sniffing, Hermione sat up a little straighter, but the tears still came as fast and thick as ever.

"It'll be OK" Ron said. "I'm sure it will" Hermione looked at him, eyes wide and swimming with terror.

"How do you know that?" she sobbed almost angrily. "How do you _know_ everything going's to be OK? You're not under threat from You-Know-Who, who is in fact trying to steal your child!" she wailed.

"I think what Ron's saying is" said Harry. "It's going to be alright because you've got all of us" she turned to face him. He smiled. Hermione's eyes widened.

"You're really going help me? I thought you hated me now, especially since I told I was dating Draco" she said, pushing a curl of her chestnut hair behind her ear.

Harry looked at Ron, then at Ginny, then back at Hermione.

"Hermione" he continued, "if being with him makes you happy, and it's what you want, then we're here to support you all the way" he smiled again, green eyes intense behind his round glasses. He really did need a way to getting his hair to lie flat, Hermione thought as she looked at him.

"You will? Oh, that's great!" Hermione said. "Look, I'm really glad you're OK with this…" she trailed off and didn't finish her sentence, because she then flung her arms around Harry's shoulders and hugged him, which was a bit difficult since she was still holding Anielle. Harry's vision was suddenly obscured by a lot of brown, curly hair. He laughed softly.

That was it, then. She almost felt better, but not quite. The news that her friends would be there for her made her heart move marginally upwards from where it had sank into the pit of her stomach. She might have been surrounded by the people who cared about her most, but she couldn't help being hurt and upset by the fact that someone was missing, that someone that she loved so much was slowly losing his life in hospital if the Healers could not find a way of treating him. She hoped they would, though.

Hermione slept very little that night, for her mind was whirring with hopes and fears, truth and lies, and slinking in and out of these ever-changing chunks of information was a tall, hooded figure with skin the colour of an eel and demon-red eyes.


	34. The Most Beautiful Sound

The next few days slipped past without full awareness. Day turned to night in what seemed like very little hours, and when the inky black sky paled once again to a thin, washed-out blue, Hermione knew that yet another day had passed without her realising it. She just wasn't paying much attention to anything much any more.

She had been discharged from the hospital on the third day, sometime during the afternoon. Harry and Ron had come to fetch her from the ward, Ginny waiting outside the giant oak doors for them. Hermione noticed that she looked a little distracted, her hair hanging in a frame round her pale face. She made a mental note to ask her about it when she got the time. Once she returned to the Common Room, and had put Anielle down for an afternoon nap, she crossed the room and shut the door tightly behind her. She didn't even mind that it wasn't her own room; she was aware that this was Draco's room, and that she was sitting on his bed. She smoothed the fabric of the duvet, ironing out imaginary creases with the palms of her hands. Her mind wandered, and for the first time in three days, fully started to worry about her situation.

She thought about Draco, lying in hospital in a ward inside St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Was he still unconscious? Had he woken up? If so, had he asked about her at all? Was he even capable of speech? Hermione closed her eyes, her heart hammering. The soft, satiny fabric was light and cool in her fingers. Her breath came in slow, ragged inhales and exhales. Her legs felt like they were made of lead.

Just then, Anielle woke up. She was obviously not ready for a sleep right at that moment. She stirred, stretching her arms and legs, her fingers curled into fists. Hermione got up from the bed, brushed down her trousers. She walked over to Anielle's cot, where the beautiful baby girl was struggling to stand up on her not quite stable enough legs, her arms reaching out to Hermione. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. Hermione leaned forward, and picked her up, cradling her close to her chest.

Hermione bit her lip, her eyes stinging with tears as she felt Anielle's soft, whispering breaths on her neck. Her blonde hair tickled Hermione's cheek, and she tightened her hold on her. She was warm, and kind of damp. _Oh no_ Hermione remembered. _I forgot to change her_. Picking up a plastic bag she knew was in Draco's wardrobe, she made her way to the bathroom, Anielle in tow, snuggling up close to her mother with adoration.

Five minutes later, Hermione reappeared with a pink-cheeked, content daughter in her arms. She had been changed and was now wearing a soft white sleep-suit instead of her other pale pink one. She looked so sweet, like a baby angel, though she was getting rather big and heavy now.

"You're a growing girl, aren't you?" she whispered in the tiny whorls of Anielle's ear, and she murmured softly. Hermione crossed over to the bed again, sitting back against the dark wooden headboard. She shifted Anielle slightly, her soft baby head resting in the crook of her neck. Her fingers curled into the material of Hermione's t-shirt, her cheek brushing Hermione's. She felt a warm rush of love for her daughter, the kind of love you never want to die out, to fade away. How could she ever let her go?

Then she thought of Draco again. She thought of how she could never let _him_ go. She could never let him go away, never let him die. There was no way that Hermione was going to let him suffer, after all he had done for her. She wanted him to get better, to come out of hospital, and to be close to her again. She sank down further onto the bed, Anielle tight in her arms. She remembered how they'd shared all their free time together, in the Common Room, talking and enjoying each other's company. She remembered the feeling of his warm body next to hers, the way he would just stare into her eyes and smile, the way their lips would meet, and her heart would race and her legs would turn to jelly…

And then she heard it. A sudden, burst of a sound, the sound of a happy voice. It came from Anielle. Hermione had been unconsciously stroking her blonde curls with her fingertips, her body wound around her mother's.

"You laughed, didn't you?" she whispered happily. "You did laugh! Oh, my darling" she whispered, holding her close. Her heart had lit up, glowing dimly like a dying-out candle. Anielle had laughed, for the very first time. It was the most beautiful sound in the world.

"Oh, sweetheart. You must be very happy!" she said, tears filling her brown eyes. Her face broke into a joyous smile. "It's just a pity your dad's not here to hear you" she said, blinking and allowing a single tear to roll down her cheek. She had a warm, fuzzy feeling in her stomach, a good feeling. Hermione was swelling up inside with the pride of her daughter's achievement. She couldn't believe it! She had laughed for the first time! More tears found their way down Hermione's flushed cheeks.

She could definitely never let Anielle go, she knew that. Without her, she knew she could achieve nothing herself. But more importantly, she couldn't let Draco go. She couldn't possibly leave him, not after everything they had suffered. If he were to leave her now, she could only begin to imagine how broken, how distraught, she would be. He was her everything, her entire world. She needed him, just as he needed her. And by the end of the night, and she was still lying on Draco's bed, her head on the pillow, and Anielle asleep in her arms once more, she knew that even though it would upset her so much, that it would hurt her to the limit, she knew what she had to do.

She had to visit him in hospital. She had to see for herself if he was going to be alright. She knew it would be awful for her, and no doubt very emotional, but there was no other reason for her not to go. He would want her to visit him, even if he was unconscious still. She just wanted to see him again. She missed him, even thought it had only been three days. Her heart beat constantly for him, her love growing stronger with every hour she spent with him, with every minute she thought of him.

She knew it was the right thing to do. But she knew that she couldn't go alone, either.


	35. Sleeping Angel

Hermione's heart was in her mouth as she slowly made her way down the ward where Draco was in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. She was getting hot under the collar and was fiddling with a loose thread on the sleeve of her jumper. Her face was warm and she now regretted not tying her hair up. It was thick and heavy on the back of her neck and made her feel ten times worse that she already did.

Ginny was sitting on a plastic chair at the far end of the corridor, ready for her when she came out of the private room in which Draco was being kept afterwards. She was deathly afraid of what would happen. She knew that he was unconscious and in a coma, but she was till hopeful that he somehow might have made a miraculous recovery overnight. Of course, deep down she knew that was not possible. She just wanted to see him, and that was all – him being in a coma didn't bother her. It did just a tiny bit, and she was worried for him, but at the end of the day she just wanted to be beside him for a little while. She needed to feel the comfort his presence gave her. Giving their grave situation she didn't want to face the world alone, friends or no friends.

She turned back to look over her shoulder, where she could see Ginny's flame-red hair at the end of the short corridor. She saw Hermione and gave a wide smile and thumbs-up. She returned with a weak grin but could not bring herself to return the gesture of luck. However, Ginny's encouragement had helped her. Without her, she didn't know whether she would have had the courage to come here at all. Ginny had been there when she needed her the most, and that was what was important to her. She needed her friends at a time like this, even though she wasn't entirely sure if she had believed Ron when he had said that he was OK with her and Draco being together. Not that it mattered, anyway. She knew they would still be there for her.

She took a deep breath and pushed open the door into the room that said _Private_ in gold lettering. She knew from the MediWitch she had spoken to that Draco was in a critical but stable condition. She didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He was being closely monitored because there was a chance of brain damage, the witch had said. Recalling her very words sent a shiver down Hermione's spine. Brain damage? What did that mean, a haemorrhage? Something worse?

As soon as she saw him she gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth. Tears burned at her brown eyes. Her breath caught in her throat and for a moment she was unable to breathe. She carefully made her way over to his bedside.

He was unconscious, she knew that much. It was easy to see that. He was lying very, very still, barely breathing, his eyes closed. He could have been sleeping for all anyone else knew. His skin was paler than ever and the slow beep of a heart monitor told Hermione that he was still alive, but only just. She didn't know to react to this, and so just sat down next to him on a chair. Her hands were folded in her lap, and she was twiddling her thumbs nervously. Her breath was forced and ragged, and her heart hammered under her woollen jumper. She was getting hotter and hotter under the bright hospital lights, and her jumper was sticking to her back. She pushed a curl of chestnut brown hair behind one dainty ear. Then she forced herself to look at him.

A single tear slid down her rosy red cheek, then another and another. Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. Just the whole haunting image upset and shook her to the core. He didn't deserve to be like this. He hadn't done anything wrong, nothing at all. At that very moment, she hated Pansy Parkinson for doing this to Draco more than she had ever hated anyone before. It was _she_ who had kicked him in the back of head. It was _she_ who had got him hospitalized. And it was _her_ fault that he was in a coma, unable to move or talk to anyone. She doubted he even knew she was there, next to him, crying.

She leaned forward and carefully took his pale hand in her own. It was as cold as ice, and she held it as tightly as she dared without (she thought) doing him any harm that she knew of. She gently stroked the back of his hand with her fingertips. His skin was smooth to the touch, but still very cold and this frightened her. It was almost as if he was already dead. Hermione immediately shook this thought out of her head. No, he wasn't going to die. He was going to get better and come back to Hogwarts, she told herself over and over again. _He's going to get better_. _He is. He's going to recover and come back to you and Anielle. Don't forget that_. A few more salty tears slipped down her already wet cheeks. She sniffed quietly and wiped her nose with a tissue she pulled out of her jeans pocket.

"Oh, God" she whispered, her voice wobbly and tearful. "Oh, God, why did this have to happen to you?" she knew that she wouldn't get an answer. But it felt better to say something that it was to just sit there doing nothing. It gave her a comfort, and she knew that it would give him comfort too.

"I won't let you die, Draco. You _can't _die. I need you. We both need you, me and Anielle. I love you. Don't leave me" she sobbed those last three words, unable now to control her grief. She truly loved him. She couldn't possibly let him go, after everything. Her eyes came to rest on his forehead, where the bruise from Pansy's first assault was still painfully lurid. She could see the angry mottled purple skin through the white blonde of his fringe. She could also see the wadding at the back of his head that had been used to stench the flow of blood.

"Don't leave me, Draco. I'll do anything to get you better again, I promise you that. And I'll make sure Parkinson pays for what she's done. I'll see to it myself. I can't let you go, not now. I _love_ you" she whispered, her breath now catching in sobs in her throat. She felt her heart thump wildly in her ribcage. "Please don't go".

Hermione lost complete control. She cried harder and harder, her hand over her mouth. Tears streamed down her face and she bit her lip so hard that it bled. She had meant every single word that she had just said. She did not want him to leave her, to die. She knew that she wouldn't be able to take the pain if he did. Hermione knew that she had to do something to help him get better, whatever it took. She just wanted to feel his arms around her again, to hear his laugh and see him smile when she told him she loved him. She longed for those days that they had spent together up in the Head's Common Room when Ron and Harry were outside and Anielle was asleep, and they would kiss and hold each other. And Pansy Parkinson would pay a heavy price for what she had done, whether he died or not. Hermione would personally see to it that she be severely punished.

After a few minutes, Hermione raised her head. She saw Draco's chest rising and falling gently with each breath that he took. She could not help fearing that each breath might be his last, and it hurt her physically to see him in such a condition. She wanted to stay with him all morning, all afternoon, all night. But she knew that wasn't possible. Professor McGonagall had granted her two hours at the most to visit him, because she had lessons that day and they were important as well even if she did not think so, giving the situation. Hermione knew from memory that Charms was her first lesson, followed by double Potions and Arithmancy, as well as an Astronomy class up in the Astronomy Tower that evening. She had no intention of going to any of her classes, but she knew she had to. She would have preferred to stay with him and hold his hand. But of course, that wasn't possible either.

She slowly sat up and pushed back her chair very carefully as to not make a sound. Then she got up, trailing her fingers out of his. Her heart was in her mouth once more, and beating more slowly than before. So slowly in fact that it could have stopped working. Hermione bit her lip, hard, so that a bead of blood formed on the rosy pink skin. It hurt but she didn't care.

She didn't want to leave him on his own, not in his condition. Her heartstrings plucked painfully as she took her hand out of his. Once again, tears welled up behind her eyes, and once again, spilled out of them and down her wet cheeks and neck.

"I love you" she whispered finally, before turning to leave the room. It hurt with every step she took, and with every step she thought about turning back and staying for a few more moments, a few more minutes perhaps. Just as she went out into the corridor and shut the door behind her, she turned back over her shoulder. He looked so calm just lying there, oblivious to the world. Peaceful, almost, undisturbed. Like a sleeping angel. He was her Sleeping Angel.

Hermione left down the corridor, her head down and tears sliding down her face. Her brown curls bounced on her shoulders as she walked, her feet like lead and her footsteps heavy. When she reached where Ginny was sitting, she burst into tears and broke down. Ginny jumped up from her seat and threw her arms around her friend.

"It's OK. It's OK, Hermione" she said softly, patting her hair. Hermione cried harder.

"I shouldn't have left. He needs me, Ginny" she sobbed. Ginny put an arm round Hermione's shoulder, guiding her down another corridor and down a flight of steps to the Muggle lifts.

"I know it's really horrible for you, Hermione. I understand. I'm here to help you with whatever you need, OK?" Ginny said. Hermione nodded, still crying. Her shoulders were heaving with each sob that escaped her mouth.

As the lift clattered down into the hospital lobby, Hermione realised that her heart was breaking.


	36. Grieving Alone

The days that followed the visit passed in a blur, and chilly January rolled on into a milder, bleaker February. Hermione acted on autopilot; she went to her lessons, handed in all necessary homework, and spent her free periods in the library reading or studying, even though she had no appetite for work. Once lessons were over, she went back to the Head's Common Room, worked on homework that she had received that day. She was constantly reading, her nose buried deep in the pages of a thick volume on some subject or other. In between reading, working, and her lessons, she fed and changed Anielle; cuddled her, and played with her, and told her that she loved her no matter what. It was a kind of distraction, she told herself. A distraction to stop her worrying so much. But even Ginny and Lavender and Parvati, her friends, had noticed a change in her.

She had also visited Draco again, once or twice, but forced herself not to stay too long by his side. And, each time, she felt her heart break just a little bit more.

One evening, when Hermione was alone in the Head's Common Room, and Anielle was fast asleep, she heard a knock on the door. Hermione turned towards the noise but did not get up to answer it. She had too much on her mind; it was causing her more pain than anything had ever done before. She missed Draco. She wanted him to get better as soon as possible. She was worried about him, and scared for him.

She wiped her wet eyes with the back of her hand. There was another knock on the door. This time, breathing heavily and slowly, Hermione got up from the sofa and went to answer it, though she had no intention of speaking to whoever was behind the polished oak wood. She wanted to be left alone tonight, the same as every other night. Why should this evening be different? Hermione wanted to think.

She reached for the brass doorknob, turned it clockwise and opened the door carefully. Standing there, looking grim and tired, was Ron. His brown eyes were dull and lifeless. He didn't look as though he had had much sleep. But to tell the truth, neither had Hermione. She had lain awake each and every night since her visit to St. Mungo's , her mind whirring and her heart thumping, aching with pain and hurt for the one person she loved but feared she might never be able to see again if things turned wrong. She had asked Draco's Healer, a woman called Mildred, to contact the castle when he woke from his coma, so that she could talk to him. She asked them to keep her informed of any developments – good or bad – in his condition.

"Hi. Are you okay?" Ron asked quietly. Hermione shook her head. Tears burned at her eyes once more. Her curls bounced on her slim shoulders.

"No. No, I'm not" her breath caught in her throat, her voice tearful and wobbly. She put a hand to her face. Several salty tears seeped down her cheeks. Ron took a step forward. Hermione shook her head once more.

"No, don't. Please, Ron – I appreciate the gesture, but I don't want to see anyone right now. Please, just go. I'm sorry" she sobbed, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. She was tired, and scared, and upset. She knew Ron only meant well, only meant to ask after her like any other friend would – but she just couldn't face having anyone in her company. She needed to swallow down her grief alone.

Ron cast his eyes to the floor. "Ok" he mumbled. "Ok, I'll go. What shall I tell the others?" he asked.

"Tell them?" Hermione looked up, sniffing tearfully. "Why would you tell them anything?" she enquired.

"Well, they sent me here to see if you were alright. What shall I tell them? That you're ok? They're worried about you, Hermione" he replied. Hermione sniffed again, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her woollen dressing gown. She reached up and placed a hand on the edge of the oak door.

"Tell them I'm coping, but I'd rather be alone right now" she answered quietly. She even managed a weak, half-smile, which Ron returned with sympathy in his eyes. Then he turned to leave. Hermione watched his back as he made his way along the short distance to the flight of stairs that lead on upwards towards the Gryffindor Common Room. She then closed the door tightly, and locked it with a tap of her wand, which she had stowed in her dressing gown pocket, though she did not know exactly why.

She walked back over to the sofa, smoothed down the fabric of her dressing gown. She eased the belt slightly, loosening it just a little. The fire was crackling, ablaze with orange flames. It cast ominous shadows along the cream walls, illuminated the marble hearth and lit up the tapestries that hung immaculately on the bare paint. Slowly, Hermione sat down, leaning back against the sofa. She stretched her legs out in front of her as far as they would go. She reached up to touch her face; it was streaked with tears and wet from the crying she had done. She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking, and the pain of an invisible thread constricting her chest. It felt like someone was trying to tear her heart from ribcage, twisting and turning the pumping muscle until the pain was too much.

Hermione curled her legs up beneath her, tucking her feet underneath her gown. She hugged herself for extra warmth, for some little comfort that she was trying to hold onto. But she knew that she was only clutching at straws; like someone was holding them out to her, and she was terrified of drawing the short one for fear of the consequences, and one of those was losing Draco. A lump rose in her throat when she thought of him, and she helplessly tried to swallow it down again, with no avail. It was like a piece of wood had stuck in her throat; scratchy, and uncomfortable.

Hermione bent her head, her brown curls falling in front of her face. She was unaware that she was shaking violently, but not with cold, or even fear. Not purely fear, anyway – no, she found herself trembling so violently because her grief, every memory of Draco, of all the times that they had spent together - and now seeing him lying comatose in St. Mungo's, unable to see her, speak to her, or hear her – was a greater pain that someone pushing a crowbar between her ribs and forcing her bones apart.

But she knew she had to grieve alone, for the sympathy of others, the company of her classmates, would only encourage the pain to greaten so much more.


	37. A Change of Heart

The first good news that Hermione had heard in almost a month came a week later. She was sitting in her History of Magic class, trying her best to concentrate on the lecture Professor Binns was giving them on the Centaur Revolt of 1863. But Hermione had no interest in centaurs, or the wars that they had fought over the years. The pain in her chest was ever worsening, and the fear building up inside her was making her feel physically sick. She couldn't think of anything else, _hadn't_ thought of anything else but Draco, and Anielle, and everything that had gone wrong for them. She just couldn't help being constantly worried, forever scared, and completely terrified by the thoughts that entered her mind.

So, when Professor McGonagall rapped on the door of the classroom on a chilly Wednesday morning a week later, and asked for Hermione Granger, she didn't really know what to think. Her first instinct was, _Oh no, something's happened. Something's wrong. Something must be wrong. Oh, Goodness, I hope he's alright…_Her heart began to hammer frantically at the very thought, her hands shaking and her body heating up all over. He was dead. Draco was dead. She was sure of it. After all this time, after everything they had been through…she had lost him, the one she loved. She tried to stop salty tears from burning the backs of her eyes as she stood, shakily, and followed Professor McGonagall outside the classroom. She tried unsuccessfully to prepare herself for the worst.

"There's no need to look so worried, Miss Granger. I assure you that nothing serious is wrong" Professor McGonagall said kindly. "In fact, I have some very good news". Hermione's heart slowed a little. Good news. Good news…that meant that Draco was better! She was sure that he was getting better….she was sure of it, was absolutely sure! Some colour returned to Hermione's ashen face. Her hands stopped shaking so much and she cooled down considerably.

"I have just been informed by St. Mungo's hospital that Mr. Malfoy had woken from his coma and is asking especially for you" McGonagall adjusted her square-rimmed spectacles "so I took the liberty of granting you permission to visit him this afternoon. I have written a note for Professor Vector excusing you from your Arithmancy class so you may have an hour of privacy at the hospital" Professor McGonagall finished. Hermione could scarcely believe it. Draco had finally woken from his coma. He had asked to see her! For the very first time n weeks, Hermione smiled. The pain in her chest lifted. Her heart gave a joyous leap and her brain kept thinking, _He's going to be alright!_

"Thank you, Professor, thank you!" Hermione gasped with happiness.

"You're very welcome, Miss Granger. I should tell you that he is still very weak, but alive and well nonetheless. I am sure that things will get better for you, on all levels. And yes, I know that Anielle is your daughter" she added. Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock. McGonagall just looked at her in sympathy.

"You must return to your class for now, Miss Granger – but I shall see that you are excused this afternoon" she gave Hermione a curt nod.

"Thank you again, Professor" she replied. She watched as Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and marched importantly back down the corridor, her long, green velvet cloak trailing along the flagstones. Hermione could barely contain her happiness. She smiled again, and turned back towards her classroom. Pushing open the door, she walked in, gave Professor Binns a nod to show that everything was alright, and retook her seat near the right wall of the classroom. Now, she could fully concentrate, and she took out a quill and dipped it in her ink. She could continue working as normal. Everything was going to be fine.

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That afternoon, Hermione was upstairs getting ready for her visit to St. Mungo's to see Draco when there was knock on the door. She knew it was Ginny, coming to look after Anielle whilst she was in St. Mungo's. She didn't want to take Anielle with her in case it upset her. But, people _had_ been knocking round often during the last hours; Ron and Harry, then Ginny, and then for some reason Luna came to see her. They had all noticed her sudden change of heart, that her mood had lightened – her eyes were no longer red from endless heartbroken crying, nor was her face as pale as death. The reason, Draco was going to be alright. He wasn't going to die. She wasn't going to lose him.

Hermione tugged a brush through her chestnut curls, picked up her shoulder bag from the floor by her bed. She smoothed down her skirt and adjusted her collar, then pulled on a denim jacket that she dug out from the bottom of her trunk – all whilst going downstairs to fetch the door. She pulled it open and Ginny was standing there, a flushed look to her face as if she had been walking quickly. Hermione smiled.

"Hi. Are you sure it's not too much trouble?" she asked Ginny again for the hundredth time. Ginny shook her head.

"Of course it isn't! Sure, she's Malfoy's kid, but she's yours as well, and you're my _friend_, Hermione. I want to help you" she laughed. Then, in a more serious tone, she said "I really do hope things will turn out OK for you". Hermione smiled.

"Thanks" she said, meaning it.

She looked at her watch. Ginny went upstairs to fetch Anielle. Hermione had asked Professor McGonagall to let Draco know that she would be there around two o'clock. It was twenty past one now. It wouldn't take long to get to St. Mungo's, if she used Side-Along Apparition, which Professor McGonagall had kindly offered to assist her in, and then walked the short way to where St. Mungo's stood, concealed by a disused dress shop in London. It would only take around ten minutes, a little more if she were walking slowly – but she made sure she had plenty of time, just in case. It still wasn't safe for her to Apparate alone outside Hogwarts, nor was it safe for any student to do so, therefore teacher supervision was required – a new law imposed by the Ministry regarding student protection within school grounds and outside the school. She knew from Ron, who heard from Bill, who was told by Fleur Delacour that Beauxbatons, where her sister Gabrielle attended, was under the same rules.

Ginny returned with Anielle in her arms. She was pink-cheeked and smiling, obviously newly woken from her mid-morning nap. Hermione leant over to give her a kiss.

"Mummy'll be back soon" she whispered to her. "I won't be too long, Gin" she said to Ginny. "An hour or so, hour and a half tops". Ginny nodded.

Hermione went to the door. "Any problems, just tell Professor McGonagall." Ginny nodded again in acknowledgement. Hermione could count on her to follow given instructions; Harry and Ron not so much. If she had asked them to watch over her daughter for a while, it would not have gone down well. They were only just accepting her relationship with Draco – she didn't know what they would say or do if she had asked them to watch his child for a few hours. Hermione's boyfriend or not, she was sure they didn't want anything to do with Draco Malfoy's children.

"See you in an hour" Ginny called after her as she turned to leave. Hermione closed the door behind her and made her way down to the Entrance Hall, where Professor McGonagall would be waiting for her. What she didn't know was that a certain pug-faced Slytherin would be waiting to interrogate her on her way down to the Entrance Hall, therefore stalling her meeting with McGonagall at quarter to two.

She had reached the top of the flight of stairs descending to the first floor of the castle when she heard someone call her name.

"Granger! Hey, Granger!" Hermione turned round and came face to face with Pansy Parkinson.

"What?" Hermione said stubbornly. She wasn't in the mood for Parkinson and her mind games, not after everything that she had put her and Draco through. She reminded herself bitterly that it was Pansy Parkinson who had caused Draco's hospitalisation and near Death.

"I was just wondering….have you and Draco had any more children lately, or is it just the one?" she cackled in what she thought was a frightening way, but was actually more like a goblin with a sore throat laughing, with difficulty.

"Leave me alone, Pansy. You've got us into enough trouble already. You'll pay for what you did to Draco" she answered coldly. Pansy raised her hands in mock fright.

"Oooh, I'm going to _pay_, am I?" she said, her voice sickly sweet, like over-sugared honey. She took a step towards Hermione. "Well, _Granger_" she spat "remind yourself that I know not only that you have a daughter, but that Draco is her father and that I might just let that little bit of information _slip_ during one of your lessons. The whole school will know your secret, and your lovey-dovey act with _my Draco_ will be ruined. You have no right to him. He deserves better than you" Pansy wrinkled her nose. "You stupid _Mudblood_".

Hermione looked at her. She was wasting her time, but she knew she had to say a few things to Pansy that she was sure she would not like.

"Pansy" she said. "You don't scare me. I couldn't care less whether you tell anyone about me and Draco, because it just doesn't _bother_ us like it bothers you. And as for getting 'your Draco', you may find that the position is already filled. You'll never be with him, Pansy. He has no feelings for you, only hatred. We love each other very much, and only some vile, incompetent, pathetic little witch like you could be bothered by something like this. Good day"

Hermione turned on her heel, and marched off down the stone steps. Pansy was left standing at the top, open-mouthed and rigid from head to foot. It was what Hermione had intended. But now, she wanted to visit Draco more than anything in the world, so she made her way down to Professor McGonagall without another word. Her heart was leaping with joy. The one she loved was alive and well; and now she had succeeded in pulverising Pansy Parkinson. She couldn't have felt better, and she couldn't _wait_ to tell Draco what Pansy had told her!


	38. New Spirits

Hermione walked down the corridor where she knew Draco was being treated, her heart thumping. What state would he be in when she saw him? Would he be able to talk? Would he even be strong enough to sit up? Questions plagued Hermione's mind like two dozen buzzing insects. But one thing was for sure; he wouldn't be unconscious, trapped, unable to see or hear, or to talk to anyone. At least he would be aware of his surroundings. At least he would be aware that Hermione was even there, this time.

She reached his room and slowly pushed the door open. She tried not to make too much noise as so mot to disturb him, but he immediately looked up when he heard the door creak. Hermione was pleased to see that he wasn't sleeping; quite the contrary, in fact. He was wide awake, and he smiled when he saw who she was. Hermione returned the gesture.

"Hi" she said gently, closing the door behind her. She crossed the room over to his bedside. He was sitting up; his blue-grey eyes were shining and there was more colour to his pale face than there had been before. It was obvious to anyone that he had been expecting her visit from the moment he woke up.

She leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead, and then on the mouth. He responded tenderly, and said, "I'm really glad you're here". Hermione sat down on the plastic chair next to his bed. She didn't let go of his hand. She noticed that his skin was warm, no longer eerily cold. A familiar feeling crept up from her stomach, and flew all the way to her heart. It was the feeling of love, and happiness. It sparked in her chest and made the tips of her fingers and the ends of her toes tingle.

"I really missed you" she told him. He smiled again.

"I know" he replied. "I've been waiting for you to come all day. How come to didn't get here sooner?" he asked. Hermione made a face.

"Professor McGonagall said I had to finish my morning lessons before I came. She gave me note to get out of Arithmancy so that I could come here" she shrugged. "I would have come sooner otherwise". For some reason, tears burned the backs of her eyes. "I'm really glad you're alright. I was so worried about you". Her voice wobbled, her throat suddenly constricted by a lump that she tried to swallow down. She didn't want to cry in front of him, not now – she didn't want to upset him by knowing that for the last fortnight all she had done was worry, and that she had cried herself to sleep every night for knowing that he wasn't in the room next door to hers.

Draco saw her tears. He breathed heavily, and then said, "Don't cry, Hermione. It's OK. I'm alright now". Then his face lit up. "My Healer said that I can go back to Hogwarts next week. Seven days and I'm out of here". Hermione was overcome with joy.

"That's great!" she cried. A tear slipped down her cheek. Draco reached up and wiped it away with his thumb.

"I thought I told you not to cry" he said. Hermione laughed, although the tears were still coming. Her eyelashes stuck together; her brown eyes shone. She hastily wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

"So, how are you feeling?" she asked him, then. He sighed.

"A bit tired" came his answer. "Bored". Hermione had to laugh again. So did he. She hadn't heard him laugh like that in a long time. It reminded her of Anielle, and the first time _she_ had laughed. It had been the most beautiful sound Hermione had ever heard, that laugh.

"How's Anielle?" Draco asked.

"She's alright. She misses you, though" Hermione replied. She looked right into his eyes. He smiled.

"I bet she does" he said. Hermione gave him a look that said, _don't be cheeky_. He just carried on smiling.

"She laughed" Hermione said. "She laughed for the first time, about two weeks ago. Just after you fell ill" she said. "It was beautiful, Draco – you should have heard her. It sounded like she was really happy" Hermione breathed deeply.

"She's growing up fast" Draco said. "She'll be a year old in August" he shook his head. "I can't believe it. It seems like it was only a week ago that she was born". Hermione had to agree. She was growing up fast, her daughter. And indeed, her first birthday was only six and a half months away. It didn't seem long now.

"I can't wait for you to come back" Hermione said. "I really have missed you, Draco" she felt the tears coming again. _No!_ She told herself sharply. _Don't get yourself worked up again, Hermione. Remember how upset you've been in the past two weeks. Do you really want to go back there again?_

"Neither can I" he said. "I've been in a coma for the past fortnight but I'm still sick of this place. It's so _boring_" he added.

"It's a hospital, Draco" Hermione answered. "It's not meant to be fun".

"I didn't say it had to be. I just said it was boring" he replied. Hermione didn't say anything, just looked at him. How different he was, how different from his dying self, which was just days ago. It was clear that he would love nothing more than to return to Hogwarts, to be with Hermione and Anielle.

Hermione checked her watch. It was twenty minutes to three. Had she been there that long? It didn't seem like it. She didn't have a lot of time left with him. If she had the choice, she would say all day and all night; she would sleep next to him, the warmth radiating from his body. She longed for the time when he did return, so that they could be together again, just _together_.

After a while, Hermione spoke again.

"I don't suppose you really want to hear this, but it was Harry and Ron who managed to save your life back in the Tower" she said. "They alerted McGonagall in time and she was able to contact St. Mungo's. If it wasn't for them, I probably would have lost you" she explained. "I don't think I would have been able to live with myself if you died, Draco. I would have to die myself, I think" she looked at him, her gaze full of love. She was speaking the truth – she wouldn't have been able to live with herself if he had died. Draco's expression was that of shock when she spoke the words.

"Really?" he asked. There was no denying the surprise in his voice. "You would have done that?". Hermione nodded in reply.

"And I can't believe it was Potter and Weasley who saved me. Why did they do it?" he asked her. Hermione shrugged, not really knowing the answer to this question herself. Why _had_ they rescued Draco from the Tower when Voldermort had attacked? Was it for the same reasons Ginny babysat Anielle when she visited the hospital?

"I think it's because I'm their friend, and they know how much you mean to me. I don't think they'd want to see me get hurt" she suggested. It was near what she had been thinking. Harry and Ron knew how much she loved Draco, and how much he meant to her. If she lost him, she would be heartbroken. Harry and Ron knew that, and were insistent that that should not happen. They cared about her.

"You're lucky, then. My friends would never do that that for me. If you could call them friends" he said, with a hint of sadness in his voice. It was true. The Slytherins were hardly Friends of the Year. All they cared about was looking good because they were friends with Draco Malfoy. They only hung around with him because he was labelled the school's bully, the one that everyone hated because he was a Pure-Blood rich kid whose parents worked for Voldermort. Well, at least that what he _used_ to be labelled. Not anymore, though. Not in Hermione's eyes, or anyone else's. And as for his parents, well – his father was dead, and his mother was going the same way.

"Oh, and another thing. Pansy cornered me on my way here. Said something about winning you over" she said, with a note of malicious hatred in her own voice. "I told her where to go, though. She's really, really stupid – and I will make her pay for everything she's done".

"The feeling's mutual" Draco replied. "Remember this?" he pointed towards the purpled bruise on his forehead where Pansy had hit him. He raised an eyebrow as if to say, _what an idiot she is_. Hermione had to agree.

"Yes, I remember" she said, with a scoff. Pansy Parkinson really was as thick as a mountain troll – a mountain troll that had drunk too much Butterbeer.

The face of Hermione's watch glinted under the bright hospital lights. She saw that it was ten minutes to three. Her heart sank a little. She only had ten minutes left. She decided that she would make the ten minutes a _good_ ten minutes.

There was a silence for a while, a comfortable silence – not awkward, or difficult. A silence that put her at ease, knowing that Draco was thinking that very same thing.

"I'm really happy you're alright" she repeated. "You can't possibly imagine how much I've missed you, you really can't". He looked deep into her eyes, blue-grey penetrating brown.

"I love you, Hermione, more than anything else in the world" he replied.

"I love you too" came her answer to this.

"We'll make it work, Hermione. I promise. We will put things back to normal" he said, and Hermione nodded.

"Yes, yes we will. We've _got_ to. Anielle's life is at stake" she said, pointedly.

Hermione looked at her watch for the third time. It was nearly three o'clock. She had to get back. She stood up to leave, carefully pulling her chair back across the shiny floor.

"I'm sorry, Draco, but I can't stay any longer. I've got to go back" she said. She leant towards him, and their lips met. The kiss lasted at least two minutes, and once again that surge of love flowed through Hermione's body.

"I'll come and see you again later on in the week" she said. "Wednesday, maybe". Draco shook his head.

"No, no. Sooner" he said, pulling her in for another kiss. For someone who had been ill for so long, he was surprisingly strong and his grip gave Hermione some comfort. "Wednesday is too late. Monday? That gives you two days" he whispered. They broke away from each other.

"Monday, then" she smiled. "I'll see you Monday". Slowly, Hermione let go of his hand, their fingertips brushing each other as she trailed her hand out of his.

All the way down the corridor, and down two flights of steps, Hermione could not stop smiling. Her heart was leaping manically with joy and she felt as if someone had given her a dose of mood boosting potion. She felt on top of the world. And it was all because of Draco. She knew now that he was alive and well, and loved her more than ever. She loved him, too – he knew that.

And Draco was right. They _would_ work something out. It _was_ going to be alright.

Hermione felt so much better then, knowing that, than she ever had in many, many months.


	39. An Expected Visitor

The next seven days passed in a whirlwind of homework, lessons and snatched hours in the school grounds. Hermione would wander around the castle grounds during free periods, sometimes with Harry and Ron, and sometimes without; even, sometimes, with Ginny. She would let her mind free, allowing herself to think of the future. She couldn't wait until Draco returned from St. Mungo's, back to her and Anielle, back into her life. At least she wouldn't feel so alone at night, sitting in front of the fire in the Heads Common Room. At least they could be together again, like they were before. Hermione had also kept her promise – she _would_ make Pansy pay, some way or another.

The day of Draco's return dawned on Hermione like spring emerging from a cold, hard winter. She felt elated, a new lease of life inside her that made her happy. She hadn't been allowed to go to St. Mungo's to meet him, though; instead, he would be back in the Common Room by the time she finished her lessons. Hermione was _itching_ for time to move faster, though every time she wished so, the second hand on her watch seemed to tick by even slower. This did not help matters, but nothing could dampen her spirits. Nothing. Not even –

"Oi, Granger!" Pansy Parkinson hissed. She spun on her heel, suddenly infuriated. What the hell did that stupid cow want now? Would she _ever_ leave Hermione alone?

"What, Pansy?" Hermione snapped. Pansy blinked, batting her eyelashes. Hermione could not resist the image in her head of a pig-snouted Pansy dressed in a little girls' party frock – because, in reality, that was what she looked like, as well as being pug-faced and as thick as a troll with amnesia.

"Oh, _nothing_" she said, her voice sickly sweet. "Only that I know what you and Draco are up to, and remember, I'm the one who knows the _real_ truth about you two, and can use it against you, is that right?" Pansy asked. Hermione decided it was not in her best interest to bother answering the question. "I know that Potter and the two blood traitor Weasley's know, too, but I don't care about them. This is me we're talking about, and I can say anything I need to, to turn the rest of your house against you for fraternizing with a Slytherin" Hermione gave Pansy her best I-don't-care expression, because quite frankly, she didn't care what Pansy did. "I thought I was right" Pansy replied to her own comments instead, her voice still thick and dripping with malicious sweetness; the kind of voice someone has when they are trying to sound nice when really they are being sarcastic.

"Don't think you can get the better of us" Hermione retorted. "Besides, Draco's coming back to the school today, and when he does he'll be looking for you" Hermione warned. It was the truth; he would come looking for Pansy, and not for the best reasons either. Hermione turned, and marched off down the corridor towards History of Magic. Pansy's insults were at the back of her mind – she had other things to think about.

--

When the afternoon came, Hermione was apprehensive and excited at the same time. She was just hours away from seeing Draco again, alive and well. And she was sure he was anxious to see her too; they'd been apart for almost a month and it hurt, almost physically. Anielle could feel it too, Hermione was sure she could. She could feel that her father wasn't around and it made her uncomfortable. She was restless; Hermione had to wake several times each night and bring her back to her own bed, sitting up under the covers with Anielle in her arms, soothing her. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn't. When this happened, she was usually hungry, so Hermione fetched her bottle to feed her. She normally fell sound asleep before she finished.

Transfiguration was Hermione's last class of the day, and for the lesson Professor McGonagall had asked them to attempt to turn a mouse into the branch of a tree. Hermione was having more difficulty than usual, partially because of the excitement fizzing away in the pit of her stomach. She tried, nonetheless, and concentrated as best she could. On her first attempt, the branch had mice ears instead of green leaves. Her second attempt was more successful – its leaves were now bright and shiny, the branch strong and properly formed; the only flaw was that there was the tiny hint of a mouse's tail at the end of the branch. Hermione sighed. Time for the third attempt.

"_Ego transformare intra natura!_" Hermione repeated the incantation, directing the spell towards the mouse on her desk. It was third time lucky. The mouse sprung from dull grey fur, pink nose and whiskers into a long, woody branch of oak; its leaves were wide, finely veined and a mesmerising green. Hermione had to say, she was rather impressed with herself. Being able to transfigure animals and objects into things like bushes, leaves, and nature in general was a skill worth mastering. According to Professor McGonagall, it was important to learn how to cast such a spell accurately, because you never know when you might need it.

"Well done, Miss Granger" McGonagall congratulated her effort as she swept past, her emerald cloak trailing along the flagstone floor of the classroom. She looked distastefully over the rim of her square spectacles at the rather shy and magically challenged Henry Boothwick, a Hufflepuff in Hermione's Transfiguration class. He had not been so lucky – his mouse was still on his desk, but instead of the usual grey ears that mice had, there were almond-shaped leaves of ash sprouting from the mouse's soft head. How he succeeded in his Transfiguration OWL, Hermione did not understand.

Professor McGonagall completed the circle of the classroom, and returned to the front by her desk, facing the twenty or so NEWT students sitting in front of her.

"I have taken observations from all of you" she looked at poor Henry Boothwick, sitting at the back of the class and looking dreamy "and have noticed that not all of you have succeeded in properly transforming your animals. Therefore, those of you who have not been entirely successful, I am setting you the homework of practising this spell in order to master it for your next lesson, which will be on Monday. The rest of you, you do not have any homework" there was a murmur of gladness amongst the students who had been reprieved of homework for that week. The students who did have homework, however, were not as pleased.

The bell rang for the end of the lesson, and there was the regular scrabbling of chairs and the clunking of books as they were shoved into schoolbags. Hermione was one of those first to rise from her chair; packing her things away hurriedly, she flung her bag over her shoulder and made for the door, eager to reach the Common Room to see Draco. She knew what time he would be back – Professor McGonagall had told her that very morning. It was difficult getting out of class; the sea of students milling around her was tough to break through, but eventually she got away at the east staircase that led up to the Head's Common Room. It took a while, for when you are walking quickly up flight after flight of stairs your legs tend to get tired, and you slow down. When this happened, Hermione took a few moments to lean against a nearby wall and catch her breath.

Her steps slowed as she reached the Common Room, and suddenly she began to feel nervous. She knew it was stupid; it wasn't like they were strangers, or anything like that. They had been together for months now, so why was she feeling anxious about seeing him again? She didn't know; the answer failed her. Instead, she braved on and walked towards the Common Room door, glancing briefly at the polished wood, solid oak. Then, she took hold of the doorknob and pushed it open, slowly. Stepping forward, she looked around. She couldn't see him anywhere.

Shutting the door behind her, she placed her bag on the floor. Had she got the time wrong? _He should be here_ she thought. The fire was crackling in the marble hearth, so someone must have been in here to light it. Not House-Elves – they never cleaned the Heads Common Room, just the house ones. In fact, Professor McGonagall had once told her that the Heads Common Room often took care of itself; she hadn't known what her Transfiguration professor had meant until now, as the thought hit her.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of a door being opened and closed upstairs. Of course. How could she have been so stupid? He'd gone upstairs, obviously! She mentally kicked herself for not realizing it. She turned in the direction of the noise. No one was there.

_What fresh hell is this?_ She thought to herself. What was going on? _How are you doing this?_ She wondered. _How on earth are sneaking around without me seeing you, Draco? I know you're there. Why don't you just show yourself?_ Hermione folded her arms. Her brown curls bounced on her shoulders as she looked around once more. What on earth was he up to? She heard footsteps coming down the stairs, but when she turned no one was there, still. Hermione furrowed her brow in puzzlement, peering around to see if she could spot anything out of the ordinary. Unless he was using a Disillusionment Charm, there was no possible way of sneaking around without Hermione seeing him.

Footsteps sounded across the cream carpet of the room, muffled by the thickly woven fibres of the material, but Hermione could still hear them. She was starting to get anxious; her heart picked up its pace inside her chest, hitting against her rib cage with more and more force. Her breathing was shallow and ragged. What on _earth_ did he think he was doing?

Just then, a pair of strong arms slid themselves around her, and at the same moment something light and silvery fell to the floor beside her.

"Hey" Draco whispered in her hear. She was glad to hear his voice, and when she did it sent shivers up her spine, her toes and fingertips tingling. She turned round in his embrace to face him, and flung her arms around his neck as she kissed him will all the passion she knew she had in her body. One of his hands was on her waist; the other playing with the chestnut brown curls of her hair. She reached up onto her tiptoes, and he brought her closer to him. Hermione could feel the taught muscles of his body through the material of his clothes; the warmth he radiated comforted her, and made her feel safe.

After what seemed like a few minutes, the couple broke apart. Hermione's arms dropped to his broad shoulders.

"I'm glad you're OK" she said quietly.

"Me too" came Draco's reply. "I don't think I could have stood another minute in that hospital" he laughed, and she did too. She hugged him tightly. What had she been so nervous about? She felt perfectly fine; in fact, she hadn't felt this good in several months. It seemed as though the troubles of the past weeks had disappeared. All that mattered now was that they were both together, alive, and that Anielle was safe, in the castle.

"I missed you" she whispered into his shoulder. Then something caught the corner of her eye. A silvery pool of material, on the floor near her feet. She furrowed her brow.

"Is that Harry's Invisibility Cloak?" she asked him. He pointedly looked away, pretending to be suddenly interested in the cream walls of the room.

**_A/N: 'Ego transformare intra natura' is a Latin phrase, translated into English as 'I transfigure into nature'. It's a pretty long incantation for a spell but I couldn't think of anything else so hope you like the improvisation. Oh, and sorry for not updating any sooner, I've just been so busy! Hope you like the chapter, there's more on its way pretty soon! xx_**


	40. Together Once More

"I can't _believe_ you stole Harry's Invisibility Cloak!" Hermione exclaimed, eyes wide. She was only joking, of course – she wouldn't be able to be so angry with him.

"I wanted to surprise you" Draco replied. "And anyway, I didn't _steal_ it, I borrowed it. I was going to give it back afterwards". He pretended to look hurt, like a naughty schoolboy who had been caught doing something he shouldn't. Hermione had to laugh. Draco smiled. He was off the hook – at least, he thought he was.

She took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his own, and led him to the sofa in front of the fire, where they sat down side by side. Hermione curled up against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He immediately began playing with her curls, winding strands of her hair around his fingers lovingly. She slipped one arm around his waist, holding him tightly. Pulling off her shoes with her other arm, she dropped them onto the carpet, and wriggled her toes to rid herself of the sore ache she had developed from rushing around all day, moving from class to class. She sighed deeply, and then said, turning to face him, "Do you think we'll be OK now?"

He stopped playing with her hair; instead, he placed his arm around one of her slim shoulders. It was a few moments before he replied. "I hope so" then, he added "I think we will. Don't worry about it". He kissed the top of her head. Hermione retook her position against his shoulder. The warm blaze of the fire sparked in the dark grate, making Hermione feel safer, and more cared for. Her breathing was slow, rhythmic and calm. There was no need for her to fell panicked, or threatened, or worried. Draco was with her now, they were both together. In the past few months, Hermione realised that facing it alone, independently, had not been enough to come through the turmoil of events; she'd needed him more than she had thought she would, she'd needed him there, watching over her like he was now. Her five foot four frame fit easily into his six foot one like two pieces of a puzzle, unbroken by anything.

They stayed like that for a long while, just sitting in the same position, both in their own thoughts but still in each other's hearts – they always would be, they had proved that to each other. Hermione watched the red flames dance in the grate, the blackened embers turning to dust as the fire burned the peeling logs. She could feel his heartbeat; it matched her own, slow and at rest.

After a while, Draco shifted slightly, sitting up a little straighter on the leather sofa. Hermione looked up.

"I've been thinking, Hermione" he began, reaching to stroke her hair. "This is our last year at Hogwarts, and we won't have to come back in September" he gazed at her intently. She signalled for him to go on. "Since my father's dead, and my mother no longer lives in the house, I was wondering – I mean, only if you want to – maybe you would like to come and stay with me and Anielle at the Manor when this year's over". Hermione's eyes widened.

"Really?" she asked, bewildered. _Permanently?_ She thought. _Or just for the time being?_ His eyes had lit up, no longer their dark shade of grey but a shining hazel. At first, Hermione thought the firelight had caused him to look like that, but then she realised it wasn't the fire, or any kind of light. It was pure happiness – something she knew that he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Yes, really" he answered, laughing. "It gets lonely at the Manor sometimes, and it'll be easy for you to see Anielle, too, that way". Hermione smiled, her heart leaping in her chest. _Yes! Yes, I'd love to stay with you_ her voice told her, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to say the words out loud. Something stuck in her throat, like a fragment of glass; scratchy, and uncomfortable. Her happiness suddenly turned to panic, though she did not know why. She looked at his taught, muscled body in front her. She remembered how it had felt when he kissed her, and held her tight. She remembered how she had felt the first him he told her that he loved her.

Tears prickled her eyes, and she had to swallow hard. She knew what the uncomfortable thing in her throat was, now – it was emotion, overwhelming love and emotion. And it wasn't in the slightest bit uncomfortable.

She flung her arms around his neck, and at once her eyes filled. She blinked, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. She pressed her forehead against his, and he wound his strong arms around her, pulling her as close to him as he could.

"I'd really, really like that, Draco" she whispered. "Only I'd have to tell my mum and dad I was at Ron or Harry's. They wouldn't believe me if I told them I was staying with you" she loosened her grip. "They still think we hate each other!" she exclaimed, but quietly as so not to startle him.

"I'd really like it too" came his reply. "Of course I would. I love you, Hermione" he said, taking her hands from around his neck and holding them in his own. Hermione's skin was tingling all over, and she was getting hot under her grey school sweater, which may or may not have had something to do with the way Draco was looking at her right at that minute.

"I love you too, so so much" she told him. They leant towards each other, Hermione reaching up to wind her arms around his shoulders whilst their lips met. There wasn't much talking for next few minutes, as the pair wound themselves around each other, their mouths working in a way they had never thought was possible a year ago.

--

Later on, Hermione was in Draco's room, wanting to say goodnight to her daughter before going to sleep. It was very late; almost ten o'clock, and Anielle should have been asleep herself by now. Standing barefoot over her wooden cot, Hermione took her daughter into her arms and held her close. She was already starting to doze off, her beautiful blue-grey eyes heavy with impending sleep. Every now and then, she would blink heavily, a sign that she was tired. Hermione kissed her forehead, whispered "I love you", and then placed her down into her cot to sleep. How gorgeous she looked, her porcelain skin perfect, her blonde hair falling into her angelic face, her small hands and feet with their tiny fingers and toes. She felt a warm rush of love for her baby girl, and she gently kissed the tips of her fingers and placed them against the soft skin of Anielle's cheek, so as not to disturb her.

There was the sound of flushing and then a tap running as Draco finished in the bathroom, coming out a lot more coloured-in than he had before and looking content with himself.

"Is she asleep?" he asked Hermione, nodding towards their daughter's cot, where she was indeed fast asleep. He sat down on the edge of his bed, looking at Hermione. _What?_ Her expression told him, and she merely smiled as he chuckled to himself. She crossed the soft carpet over to where he was sitting, her toes sinking into the fine material.

"We're so lucky" she breathed, flicking a curl of hair away from her eyes. Draco turned in the direction of her chocolate-brown gaze, and nodded in agreement.

"Yes, we are" was his only comment. Hermione stepped back a little, adjusting her t-shirt, an old misshapen white one that she wore for bed. She noticed, however, that he was wearing dark green boxer shorts and not much else, and found it extremely difficult to avert her eyes from his strong, well-built muscled chest.

"Goodnight" she said quietly, moving forward to kiss him.

"Goodnight, Hermione" he replied, letting go of her hand, his fingers trailing out of hers. She turned, and made her way back to her own bed, and Draco watched as she left the room, stopping by the door and turning back.

"I love you" she said, before leaving, closing the door behind her. She heard his voice say "I love you too", but only faintly as she made her way across the stone landing to her own bedroom.

She pulled back the red velvet covers of her four-poster, and settled down for the best night's sleep she had had in many, many months, all the while thinking of Draco as she dreamt in her peaceful sleep.

**_A/N: Sorry if this chap's a bit short and undetailed, but I just wanted some intimacy between the two as a kind of fill-in. Oh, and bear in mind the next chapter will skip ahead to Easter break, and Draco has managed to convince Hermione to tell her parents everything...enjoy! xx_**


	41. Strength

"You are going to tell them, aren't you?" Draco asked his girlfriend suspiciously, eyeing her with doubt on his face.

"Of course I will!" Hermione replied, entwining her fingers with his and pulling him closer, their faces inches apart. They'd been hiding behind a pillar on the platform, out of sight of the other students – well, as out of sight as they could find, as the platform at Hogsmeade station was packed full of students from all years, suitcases in their wake, ready to board the train home. Hermione and Draco had darted round the crowds of students, to find a place where they could be alone together before departing.

"I'll miss you" she said, kissing him. He smiled, and then laughed.

"It's only for two weeks, Hermione" he told her.

"I know, but it'll just be different" she answered. "You know, spending less time with you. And it'll feel strange without Anielle around" she wound her arms around his waist.

"Hear that, Ani? Your mother says it'll be strange without you" Draco told his daughter, who was strapped into her pushchair next to them, and very much awake. Her bright, blue-grey eyes shone in the warm daylight. She proceeded to put her small fist in her mouth, and chew on it with non-existent teeth. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Look, I'll my parents the truth, OK? Don't worry" she stood on her tiptoes, kissing his forehead. The cries of laughter from the students on the platform filled the early-morning spring air, and even though it was warm the breeze was slightly chilly; typical April weather, though daffodils were blooming in the grounds of the historic school. Hermione felt herself well up at the thought of spending the Easter holidays without her daughter, and she fought to blink back tears that sprang to her eyeballs.

Pulling away from Draco, she bent down so that she was level with her daughter. She noticed, at such close quarters, that she had developed a sprinkling of freckles across her button nose, which cutely accompanied her teal eyes and pale, porcelain skin.

"Mummy's going to miss you" she whispered, her eyes filming with tears once again. She reached out to stroke Anielle's hair. Platinum blonde, and slightly fluffy, it had grown almost to the base of neck, just brushing her slim collarbones. Anielle just giggled at her mother's words, a smile on her angelic face. Hermione bit her lip, desperate not to get emotional. She had suffered greatly in the past few months, and she thought that it had encouraged her hormonal state to go into overdrive.

Giving her daughter a kiss, she straightened up once more – wiping her brown eyes with the back of her hand – and turned to face Draco, who was standing close by. She didn't want to say goodbye. Not again, not after everything…it felt as if she was losing him. She knew it was a ridiculous thought, as they were only going to be apart for a fortnight. He wouldn't be that far away, after all, and he had said that he would try and write. But yet, something inside her body made her shudder, something that upset her about going home for the holidays.

She walked up to him, curls bouncing on her shoulders, and then stopped. She couldn't think of a thing to say, not a single thing. Her lip quivered, and Hermione was startled to realize that her cheeks were wet, tears spilling down her face. Draco wiped them away with his thumb, turning her face upwards and bringing her lips to meet his.

She relaxed, and flung her arms around his neck, wanting to enjoy this moment more than anything. She forgot that she was going home; she forgot that she was standing on a noisy, narrow platform, hiding behind a pillar; she forgot the sounds that encircled her, the students' laughter and excited talking, the birds' twitter up in the trees. She forgot everything, and it was just her and Draco, wrapped around each other. She backed up against one of the stone pillars, and Draco followed, one hand in her curly hair and the other on her slim waist…

"Hermione, remove your tongue from his mouth and get a move on, the train's here!" she heard Ginny's voice at the back of her mind, causing her to pull away and turn round. Surely enough, Harry, Ron and Ginny were all standing just short distance away. Hermione immediately blushed, colour flooding her cheeks in embarrassment. How much had they seen?

"Go on, get on the train with them" Draco whispered to her, his breath tickling her ear. _Are you sure?_ She asked him mentally, the question written on her face. He jerked his head in the direction of her friends, signalling to her that it was OK with him.

"I don't mind" he said. "You go. I'll have to wait until everyone else has boarded the train anyway" she looked at him, deep love in her eyes. Pulling him in for one last kiss, she took hold of his hand and gave him a small piece of paper, crumpled into a ball. She didn't give him time to question her about it, though, as she turned and left, walking towards the train with the three others following her.

"What did you give him?" Ginny asked as they made their way to the scarlet steam engine that would take them home.

"My address" she replied. "So he can write to me". She gave a weak smile.

"I thought owls knew where to take letters" Ron chipped in, frowning.

"Yes, I know – but his owl doesn't get out much" she answered. It was true – his eagle owl, Serafina, was only allowed out to send him parcels at Hogwarts. Otherwise, she stayed in her cage, being let out for twenty minutes each day for exercise, and an hour each night for hunting. Lucius had not wanted an owl hooting over the Manor, he had said it would draw attention to outsiders. Hermione had guffawed loudly when Draco had told her this – but stopped abruptly when she realised he was serious.

"Come on, Hermione. Cheer up; you're going home for the holidays!" Harry prompted her from her left, putting an arm around her shoulder.

"I know, I know" she said. "I'm just going to miss them, that's all". Harry nodded in understanding, wanting his friend to feel comfortable.

The guard on duty at the platform gave a piercing whistle, and on cue the carriage doors all slid open, revealing the warm comfort of the train on the inside. Immediately, students piled into the eight carriages of the train, seating themselves in the compartments with their luggage in tow. Hermione, Ron and Harry and went for the nearest carriage, pulling their trunks along behind them, and Hedwig's cage of course. The snowy owl hooted contentedly in her home, amber eyes unblinking. Ruffling her feathers, she put her head under one downy wing to sleep. Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon, was nowhere to be seen.

"What about Pig?" Ginny asked her older brother as they piled into the nearest compartment, squashing themselves into the tiny space available.

"Oh, he was being a bloody nuisance so Mum came early to take him home" he replied. "He tried to eat the hangings around my bed. Stupid owl" he scowled, yawning loudly. Hermione sat herself between Harry and Ginny, opposite Ron, who had dumped his smaller suitcase on the rest of the available space on the seat, just to make sure no one else could sit there. Not that anyone would; everyone would have found a place to sit by now. Well, almost everyone:-

"Excuse me, can I sit here?" came the dreamy voice of Luna Lovegood from the open door of the compartment. In the distance, the platform guard blew his whistle and immediately all the carriage doors slammed shut. With a choking spout and angry splutter from the engine, the steam train chugged into life, pulling out of the station slowly, and then picking up its speed as it eased its way out of Hogsmeade and away into the hills. Still, no one had answered Luna's question.

"Of course" Hermione was the first to speak. She signalled wildly with her eyes for Ron to remove his suitcase, and he did so reluctantly. Luna squeezed between their knees, edging along the side of the seat before sitting down beside a very uncomfortable Ron. Luna was wearing her radish earrings again, her long, pale blonde hair spread over her shoulders. As usual, she was holding a copy of _The Quibbler_, and proceeded to turn it upside down before flicking the front cover open. No one made any remark against her peculiar conduct.

"When's Charlie home from Romania?" Harry asked Ron, just for something to break the tension between the five now sitting in the less than roomy compartment. The movement of the train didn't help, either, as it rocked to and fro making its way down the railway track. The clouds had darkened now; Hermione thought she could see the signs of rain coming on.

"Oh, next week, I think" Ron said, unenthusiastically. "Still, it gives Mum one less thing to complain about. She's always banging on about how the house is always empty" Ron snickered. Hermione did not blame Mrs. Weasley for thinking that way – when you are constantly surrounded by people, you get used to it, and seeing as Mrs. Weasley was the protective, maternal sort it was right to feel out of place one everyone had left. She didn't say this, though; for fear that Ron may take offence. Instead, she rested her head against the back of her seat, and let her mind wander for a while.

The conversation was sparse from then on, the occasional comment about the weather or the length of the train ride being passed amongst them. Luna had finished reading her copy of _The Quibbler_, and had replaced it inside her school bag, which was on her lap. As a consolation, she took to looking out of the window, too, gazing at the change of scenery without any full concentration. It was a while before anyone really spoke to another of the students gathered in the compartment. Hermione thought it was unusually quiet, and did not like it. It was she, therefore, that broke the silence.

"How long do you think the train will be before we reach King's Cross?" she asked, leaning forward, curls bouncing on her shoulders.

"Dunno" Ron grumbled. "A few hours, maybe?" he checked his watch. "I'm not sure".

"Why do you want to know?" Harry asked her. Hermione found it difficult to reply, but after a few moments she answered.

"I just don't want to wait for long to get home" she said. "I just want to tell my parents about everything and have it over with". Harry looked shocked.

"Tell your parents?" he looked puzzled. "Tell them what?"

"I'm going to tell them everything" she replied. "About me, and Anielle, and about me and Draco being together" she replied. It was hard to tell whether he was surprised or not, his expression was so muddled.

"Are you sure?" he asked her.

"Yes, and Draco thinks it's a good idea, too. I mean, this is their grandchild I'm talking about. They have a right to know" she was surprised by her own answer. Did they really have a right to know? _Of course they do, Hermione. Their grandchild is in danger, they have to know. You're their daughter, and Anielle is _your_ daughter. Wouldn't you feel it was best to know if you were in their shoes?_

Hermione was the kind of girl who was only nervous in exams, the kind of person who would pace her room for days thinking about results, and the kind of person who would fuss and worry get all in a frenzy if she thought she had mixed up the numbers in a date wrong whilst answering a question. Now, though, as the train racketed on closer through the morning and into the afternoon, she was really starting to worry.

She fiddled with her thumbs in her lap, wondering how was the best way to start to explain the truth to her parents. _Mum, Dad, I have something to tell you_. Was that right? _Mum, Dad, I need to talk to you_. No, it was too formal. _Err…Mum? Dad? There's something you should know…_No, it still didn't sound right. What on earth was she going to do? How would she begin? And, most importantly, what would their reaction be? Would they be angry? Scared? Disappointed? Worried? Hermione was plagued by countless different questions, countless different outcomes of the situation, and it gave her a headache just thinking about it. She lay back in her seat once more, her breathing irregular but her heartbeat surprisingly steady. The scenery had changed again – this time it was rolling hills, yellowing from lack of rain in the countryside, and a river seeped through the soil not far from the railway.

But she would have to do it, some way or another. She had to tell them, whatever it took. She just needed to grit her teeth and bare it, because from now on, she and Draco needed all the strength they could get.

**_A/N: Sorry sorry sorry it's been SO long since I updated but I've been so busy with exams and stuff, but thanks for sticking with me! There's chapter 41 of the story you all want to know what happens next...so here it is! And don't forget to review! xx_**


	42. The Parents' Explanation

Hermione stepped from the scarlet steam engine, looking nervously around for her parents. Pulling her luggage behind her, she said her goodbyes to Harry, Ron, Ginny and Luna before making her way across the station, her heart suddenly beginning to pound uncomfortably in her chest. She had spent most of the train ride contemplating how to break the news to her parents, and instead of making her feel better it just made her nervous. What had Draco told her at Hogsmeade station? _Just tell them the truth, they'll understand. You're their daughter_.

She saw her parents a few moments later, standing near the ticket office situated at the rear of the platform. They were both in their coats; it was colder here, the air crisper and more chilly. Clouds streaked the sky, threatening rain. It was strange to think that when she had boarded the Hogwarts Express that morning it had been sunny.

"Hi, Mum, Dad" she said, taking it in turns to hug both her parents, who smiled at her contentedly.

"Hi, love. Have a good term?" her dad asked, turning to fetch her trunk from behind her.

"Yes, thanks" she replied. _Just tell them_. _Just tell them the truth_.

"Err…Mum? Dad?" she enquired, her voice starting to shake. Her heart threatened to burst from her chest. She was suddenly aware that she was very hot in her pastel sweater and jacket.

"Yes, love?" her mother, Deborah, turned to face her.

"Well, there's something I have to tell you" she said. She hoped her expression was enough to show her parents that she was nervous; it might make it easier for them to understand the truth once it had come out.

"Oh, dear. This doesn't sound good" her father, Paul, said to his wife. "What's wrong?" Hermione faltered before giving her reply. Wiping her sweating palms on her jeans, she said quickly,

"It doesn't matter, I'll tell you later". She breathed out, unaware that she had been holding her breath in. She had managed to stall the moment for a while, but she didn't know how long it would be before she had no choice.

Her parents reached the car, her mother unlocking the silver Volvo with her keys. Hermione's father opened the door for her; she climbed in, seating herself in the passengers' side on the back seat. She watched as her mother put her bag on the floor under the driver's seat; she heard her father open the boot of the car and load her trunk into it. With a slam, the boot was closed and her father came round to the front of the car. Her mother got in, and turned the keys in the ignition.

With a final door slam, the engine purred loudly and her mother pulled out from the station car park. Hermione remained in total silence, a lump in her throat that she couldn't quite explain. Her heart went out to her boyfriend, who would have disembarked the train alone; he would reach the Manor in a matter of minutes due to his ability to Apparate, but the historic mansion would be empty. There would be no one home for him; no one to greet him. His mother was being held hostage at an unknown location by Lord Voldermort. His father was dead.

Hermione wiped a surprising tear from her eye, and stared out of the window at the passing scenery. Tall, grey buildings cruised past, lit with yellow lights, pale in the waning afternoon sun. She looked at the clock on the dashboard. It was five to two. It was then Hermione realised that she hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning, and her stomach was uncomfortably empty. It rumbled softly as they turned a corner, heading for the north road out of the city. She would have to eat something, she realised. Southampton was a long way from here, and it would be mid-afternoon – heading onto the evening – before she arrived at home for her tea.

"Mum, have you got anything to eat with you?" she asked, leaning forward in her seat. Her mother's wavy, brown bob bounced as her mother turned her head to face her daughter.

"Yes, love – Paul, there's a bag underneath your seat, could you get it out for Hermione?" her mother asked her father. Her father rummaged around, and finally produced a plastic bag filled with all manner of long-drive provisions. Sorting through the bag, Hermione selected a packet of her favourite vanilla toffees and an apple. _Just tell them the truth, they'll understand_.

Suddenly jumping up in her seat, Hermione put her snacks to one side. They would have to wait – whether she liked it or not, now was the time to tell them. They were relaxed; as long as the drive was OK and there was no heavy traffic, it seemed like the perfect opportunity.

"You know how I said I had something to tell you?" Hermione told her parents.

"Yes" her mother answered.

"Well, I there's something you should know about me" she said, her voice getting quieter and quieter with every word. Anxiety took over. Was this really the right time to be telling them? Her heart was beating like a drum inside her ribcage, so hard it made her ribs themselves ache. Her head was spinning with all kinds of ways to explain the truth.

"What is it, love?" her father asked. Hermione took a long, deep breath, trying desperately to calm herself. She thought of Draco, and Anielle, and the prospect of staying over at Malfoy Manor for a few months once the year had finished…

"Mum – Dad – there's something really, really important you have to know" she began. "And it doesn't just concern me, there are two other people involved…two people who are very, very special to me" her voice shook. What should she be saying? She swallowed, hard, a lump forming in her throat once more.

"Go on" her mother prompted her. She took a deep breath.

"OK" Hermione said. "OK, here's the problem. Well, it's not actually a problem…not if you don't make it one" she was trembling from head to foot. "Ihaveadaughterandyou'rebothgrandparents" she spoke, all the words rushing out at once into one long, incoherent sentence, purely out of fear, nerves and the worry of her parents' reactions.

"What was that, dear?" her mother asked. "You were speaking too quickly". Hermione breathed in deeply, and then exhaled loudly and in a fashion so as to calm some her nerves. Then, she repeated the sentence, slowly and more clearly, although her voice was shaking.

"I have a daughter and you're both grandparents" she said. She was shaking from head to foot.

"Excuse me?" her father blurted suddenly, making Hermione jump. Her breath caught in her throat, making her choke and splutter. She tried to wipe her watery eyes with the back of her sleeve, but it was no good. Her father turned round.

"Excuse me?" he repeated. His face flushed with colour, and his eyes were on fire. Was he going to believe her?

"I have a daughter" Hermione said quietly. "Her name's Anielle. You're grandparents". She forced a smile. Her father's expression grew stony.

"Deborah, pull over here, at the service station" he told his wife. "We've got to talk about this". Her mother obeyed; she turned the car into a narrow road that twisted up onto a hill, where a small café was hidden by several large trees. It was the same one they always visited on road trips. It was small, but cosy and welcoming. The outside was painted white and orange, and the inside was all shiny metal chairs, old-fashioned wooden tables and red and white check napkins. It was Hermione's favourite place for a chat and a cup of tea – but now it just made her nervous.

She followed her mother and father as they got out of the silver Volvo – her mother locking it behind them – and walked towards the café. Mr. Granger pulled open the swing doors, and marched inside, heading for a table near the far corner, by a wide, white-framed window with a vase of purple flowers on the sill. His wife and Hermione followed suit. They took their seats, Hermione's heart pounding beneath her sweater. Her parent's expressions were stern.

"Right, about this" her father started.

"I think we should let Hermione explain first" her mother broke in, her voice quiet so as not to give the other customers the satisfaction of being able to hear the conversation. "We need to hear her side of the story before we jump in and make decisions". Hermione agreed with her mother, and although she did not speak she nodded in approval. Taking a deep breath, she unbuttoned the top buttons of her jacket to cool herself down. It was unnaturally warm in the café – or was it just a nervous flush?

"OK" her father said. "Let's hear it, Hermione". He paused. "And we want the truth, don't we, Deborah?" he turned to Mrs. Granger, who replied a quiet "Yes". Hermione steeled herself. This was her moment. She had to confess, it would be better for everyone. Draco had assured her it would be the right thing to do.

"My daughter" Hermione began. "Is called Anielle Trinity Malfoy" she breathed deeply. "I am her mother, and Draco Malfoy is her father". Her mother's brow furrowed.

"Draco Malfoy?" she asked her daughter quizzically. "Wasn't he the boy you were always complaining about, the one who you said called you names and teased you?"

"Yes" was Hermione's answer.

"But I thought you didn't like him" her mother said.

"I know, but things have changed. Everything changed, in December at the start of my sixth year".

"What happened?" her father asked her.

"Well, I'm not really sure. This is just what Draco has told me; even he isn't sure of the details". She swallowed. "You see, at the start of sixth year, Draco – Malfoy – was given a mission by You-Know-Who, the dark wizard. This was because his father, Lucius, had failed him in July. You-Know-Who wanted Mr. Malfoy to fetch something for him, something important. But he didn't get it, and he was captured and jailed, in Azkaban" she paused. Her mother's expression told her to carry on.

"You-Know-Who was really, really angry that Lucius had failed him, so he decided to punish him by giving Draco a mission. He was supposed to kill Albus Dumbledore". She heard her mother give a sharp intake of breath.

"Only he didn't do it. He was too frightened. So my old Potions teacher, Professor Snape, did it instead, even though You-Know-Who had stated specifically that Draco do it" she fiddled with a thread hanging from the sleeve of her jacket, trying to gather her thoughts. "And he'd threatened him; he'd said he'd kill his entire family – him, and his parents – if he didn't complete the task". She could see that her father was having difficulty grasping the situation. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage, so hard that it hurt.

"But you haven't told us about how your daughter was brought into the world, Hermione" her father swallowed pointedly. "You've just given us some spiel about a task". Hermione had to resist the urge to glare at her father; such anger was burning in her chest. Some task! Why, this was the whole reason Anielle had been even born!

"I'm getting to that" she forced herself to be as calm as she could. She thumbed the corner of a checked napkin, folding it over and over between the tips of her fingers, creasing it. "Anyway, he didn't kill Professor Dumbledore. He was too scared. And then, You-Know-Who decided to punish him, too, for failing him just as his father did. He decided to form a plan that was to push him to his limit, and then break his heart, leaving him with nothing, and completely alone. It was his way of punishing him. This is where I come in" she looked at her parents. Her mother's eyes were filming over; her father looked as if he had never heard such an appalling thing in his life. She carried on, shakily and with reluctance.

"You-Know-Who decided that he would give Draco a child, something for his own – only for it to be taken from him. But, of course, that child would need a mother, and You-Know-Who wanted a girl to pose as someone else, to make Draco fall for her and then have her true identity revealed. This was the part that was to break his heart". Breathing deeply, she pushed a curl of hair behind her right ear.

"The child, of course, is Anielle. And I'm the girl he chose to pose a different identity, although I didn't know it then. In fact, I still don't know exactly what happened. Draco told me that my memory had been wiped clean of what happened, and that I would never fully remember. It it's true. I don't recall a single thing, only that I was treated very poorly, and what kept alive only because You-Know-Who wished to use my body in his plan

"So, I was held captive. Another Death Eater was posing as me, whilst this was going on. Pretending to be me, so as not to arouse suspicion. I was still being held in a cell, but I was no longer Hermione Granger, like I am now. The name I was given was Jasmine Reid, and I was a transfer student from another magic school, Beauxbatons, in France. And I was sent, to find Draco Malfoy, and make him fall in love with me. It worked, obviously, or I wouldn't be here now. He fell for Jasmine, and he had loved her; but he didn't know it was really me. You see, You-Know-Who knew that Draco hated me, and therefore it would be easier for him to be crushed when my identity was revealed, and the realisation hit that he had fallen for a Muggle born. Are you with me so far, now?" She looked at her parents. She fought to blink back the tears that pricked her eyeballs.

"Yes, we are, love" her mother said. "But how does your daughter…Anielle, is it…how does she come into this?" she asked. Hermione bit her lip. What she would give for Draco to be by her side, at this very moment! She would have given anything to have him sitting next to her, holding her hand, backing up her story…but she didn't know whether her parents would welcome him or not…he was, after all, in their eyes, her worst enemy….

"Anielle was conceived in December, after him and Jasmine – me- were together for a few months" her voice began to shake with tears; her throat was sore, and a lump rose in her wind pipe, choking her. Her eyes misted, and she thought back to the first time she had held her baby daughter, her blonde hair tickling her cheek, her smooth, porcelain skin streaked with tears; she remembered the love that she had felt, her warm body pressed against her shoulder, her small fingers gripping tightly onto her dressing gown….a tear dripped down her cheek, and she made no effort to wipe it away.

"And, of course, for the next nine months Jasmine, me, was kept under close watch by You-Know-Who, because I was being controlled by very dark magic and he needed to make sure that it was going to plan, and that Draco didn't find out what was going on". Her father reached out across the table and took her hand, warm and rough around her small palm. She was immediately comforted, and her heart rate slowed a little – but only a little. She was still in panic of how to explain the rest of it. Her whole body shook with the effort to keep calm; she knew she mustn't make a scene. How different the situation could be if they were at home, where she would be able to express her true feelings, to cry all she wanted, to truly express her heartache. She sniffed loudly, and gathered her voice together.

"And he didn't, not until two weeks before the birth" she lowered her head. She could sense her parents' eyes on her, searching their only daughter for answers she had not yet given. Her mother drew in a sharp breath, shifted in her chair.

"Go on, love" she prompted. "It's OK; we're not going to be angry with you". With this, Hermione spoke again.

"Anielle was born on the seventh of August last year, and by then Draco knew the truth. He was really upset, and horrified, to know who Jasmine truly was" she paused. "He told me that much. Said he was disgusted, in fact. But that's not important. He was hurt, yes, but also scared. He knew what was going to happen to Anielle, that the Death Eaters would take her away, torture her, and eventually kill her when they no longer needed her service – all this to a baby. He didn't want Anielle to get hurt, regardless of who her mother was. So, instead of letting them take her, he ran away, taking her with him. I don't know where he went; he never told me" her voice was quiet, and several more tears slipped down her cheeks. Her father reached out to stroke her hair; she cried harder.

A short, dark-haired waitress came over to their table. Mrs. Granger ordered tea for her and her husband, and a glass of water for Hermione, before giving the waitress a look that told her not to bother them right now. A stifled sob escaped from Hermione's throat. She had never felt so upset, so alone, so vulnerable…she longed for Draco to be with her. But she knew he would be at home, also alone, also vulnerable. This did not help matters, and Hermione rested her forehead on the soft napkin tablecloth, curls bouncing around her face and shoulders as she sobbed.

"Then he came to school, and so did I, and that's when all of this really started" she rubbed her arms, hugging herself for comfort. She glanced upwards, her eyes glazed and red with tears. Both her parents had sympathy and care written into their faces; they both looked truly upset for her, seeing their daughter in such a state.

"I found about Anielle when I was eavesdropping on him and the Hogwarts matron behind a closed door, he was asking her about a cold that Anielle had…and that's when I first knew he had a daughter. I didn't know she was mine, then. I was really angry with him, you know, for bringing her into the school…angry that he had the nerve to set foot on the grounds after the previous year. I'd been made Head Girl, as you know, and he was Head Boy. He still is. We share a dormitory together, and at first it was really hard, because I was still irritated by his daughter being around, intervening on everything" she wiped her face with her jacket sleeve. The waitress brought their drinks over; she placed them on the table. Hermione seized her glass, and gulped the icy water thirstily. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to look her parents in the eyes.

"One night, when Draco had left to go up to bed, I found Anielle's birth certificate, hidden in an old copy of the _Daily Prophet_. I knew it was from St. Mungo's hospital because it had the hospital logo on it, stamped at the top. I read it through, and it listed the birth date, place of birth, time of birth, that kind of thing…but it had my name written as the mother's name. I was horrified – I thought it was some kind of joke. I was furious with him, for pulling such a stunt, because I knew that things like this were illegal. When he came out of his bedroom, I practically shoved the certificate in his face and asked him what on earth he thought he was doing. I wanted to smack him, I really did. But then he told me truth. I didn't believe him at first. I thought he was joking again. But then I realised he was deadly serious, and totally genuine. He was worried about her; I could tell. He really, really loved her – Anielle that is – and I knew that he would do anything to help her.

"After that, things took a turn. We were getting along better, me and him – for Anielle's sake – even though we had our moments. I started having nightmares, though, about the year before, and they frightened me, but Draco told me it would be OK as long as we worked together to look after our daughter. I started to like him, and we got together at the school ball, I mean, romantically" she felt her face flush. "It turned out he really liked me, and we decided to give us a go. So we did. And we've been together ever since. I love him so, so much" she took a drink of water. "He means so much to me, and I don't know what I'd do if I lost him, or Anielle. They're the most important people in the world to me, except for you two, of course" she gave her parents a smile; her father squeezed her hand. She suddenly felt a lot, lot better. The tears had dried up, and she realised that for the first time in hours, she was smiling.

"It's OK, love. It's going to be OK, from now on. We're not going to judge you, for what's happened. It seems very clear to me that you love your daughter, and Draco. It sounds like you're going to miss them both this holiday" that was her mother. Hermione finished her drink, and drained her glass before setting it back down onto the table. Her father also drained his cup of black, un-sugared tea, as did her mother. Hermione could never understand how they could drink their tea like that, plain, with no sweetness. It seemed a disgusting prospect, but then again she was used to drinking it milky, with at least two sugars, three or four if she was craving sugar, as she usually did around her time of the month.

"Well, I'll just pay" her father took out a fiver from his wallet, and placed it on the table, signalling to the waitress that the fees were ready for her to collect; she nodded in reply. He then turned his gaze towards his daughter.

"I'm glad you told us this, Hermione" he said. "It must have been hard for you; it all seems such a horrible experience for a pair of teenagers to suffer. But I'm glad you told us". She only smiled in return, for fear that her parents' sympathy and comfort may reduce her to tears once again.

"You're not angry, for what happened?" she stuttered, staring at them with glazed eyes.

"No" they both answered in unison. Her smile grew wider.

The three of them left the café, and made towards the car. They clambered in, and her mother started the engine. Hermione leant back in her seat once again; her beating heart had subsided to its usual rhythm, and she tired from crying so much. But she felt serene, and comfortable. Draco had been right. Telling them the truth had been the best thing to do, and they had understood.

Draco. How she wished he was here with her now….

She closed her eyes, and let her mind wander, thinking of her daughter, and of Draco, and of the pure, true love that brought them together.

There wasn't another sound for the rest of the journey, and Hermione must have fallen asleep because the next thing she saw was the car parking up at the Granger's drive, and her mother heaving her school trunk from the boot of the car.

**_A/N: Well, what do you think? I know it's a bit long, but I wanted a full explanation, and this was the only way to do it. There's a lot of reading there, I can tell you that! Hope you enjoy it...chapter 43 will be coming soon, don't you worry!!_**


	43. Content

She didn't remember getting out of the car, walking up the drive, entering the house; she barely remembered pulling off her trainers and jacket, brushing her hair, unpacking her things upstairs. She was in a daze, but not a good one. Hermione was riddled with all kinds of different emotions; confusion, relief, slight disbelief, wonder, worry, and most of all, longing. Longing for the ones she loved, which of course did not include her parents, for they were with her right now, in her house. She was longing to see Draco and Anielle again.

Supper that night was a quiet event, the three Grangers eating almost silently at the polished, rectangular table situated to the left of a small kitchen-diner. No one spoke, not much. The events of the previous few hours were on everyone's minds. Hermione was actually beginning to regret telling them at all.

"Hermione, you don't have to do this alone" her mother chirped suddenly, putting down her knife and fork to take a good look at her daughter. "It's not entirely for you to deal with. We're here too". Hermione's eyes glazed once again, and she fiercely sniffed in vain effort to hold back tears. Her parents had been wonderful to her. She knew, deep in her heart, that she did not deserve this kind of affection, not truly, honestly.

"Your mother's right, Hermione. Your mother's right" her father's voice was quiet; he too had put down his knife and fork. "You don't have to be on your own in this".

"But I'm not alone. Draco and I have each other" she answered, hoping her expression would take the possible offence from her words. It was true; they did have each other. But who would look after _them_? With painful thought, she recalled those agonising two weeks, when she had almost lost Draco, and the gnawing feeling inside her that she was entirely alone. How awful that had felt – it was a feeling she wished she would never experience again.

"Yes, but who will look after the both of you?" her mother asked, as if she could read Hermione's mind.

"Deborah, it's not like the boy doesn't have his own parents…" her father started, but Hermione interrupted.

"Dad, Draco's father is dead, but he wasn't a very nice man. Not at all" she paused. "And his mother went missing months ago". A dark blush crept up her father's cheeks.

"Oh" he said. "Oh, well, I'm sorry about that. But doesn't he have any other relatives?" Hermione was stung by this question. What was her father suggesting? That Draco not rely on Hermione so much? That he broke away from her? She sincerely hoped not!

"No, Dad. He doesn't have any other family, apart from a crazed, villainous aunt who's in the wizard prison, another aunt who is a family outcast because she married a non-magic man, a cousin who's an Auror, and a dead second cousin". She gasped her breath. "Ok?" her father stared. She had not meant for it to be so bulleted. "His grandparents are out of the picture, too. They died before he was born". She fiddled nervously with her fingers, twiddling her thumbs in circles in vain attempt to regulate herself. Why _was_ she being so bulleted? They were only trying to help – in their own way.

"Paul, forget it. It's obvious that neither of them can cope with this alone, they have a baby girl to think about. How old is she, did you say?" her mother directed her last question to Hermione.

"She'll be one in August, on the seventh" Hermione managed a weak smile. Thinking of Anielle, and talking about her, made her somehow feel comforted.

"So soon, then! It must have flown past for you" her mother said. Hermione nodded in agreement. Yes, these past months had flown past. Soon her baby girl would be talking, walking, running around – and she and Draco would be there, in the background, arms around each other as their daughter played on the carpet…she could not hold back the tears, not this time. The awakening of this new picture inside her head made her think, soon Anielle would be four, five, six, seven. She might even be accepted to Hogwarts, and would have her own education in magic just as she and Draco had done. It wasn't too far away, not if you really thought about it.

Her mother handed her a tissue, and she dabbed at her wet, teary eyes. She looked at both her parents from underneath damp lashes; they were both eating, slowly, yet their eyes were on her. She knew they cared about her.

--

That night, Hermione lay awake wondering. The picture that she had visualised in her head at supper, was that really going to come true? All of it? Would she and Draco withstand their hardship, once and for all? It made her think of the future…would they still be together? She hoped so, she really did. Now that she realised how wonderful he was, and so kind and caring, she was wondering if, all these years, she had simply mistaken him to be someone that he clearly wasn't. Maybe that day, when she had first met him seven years ago, it had all been an act, and that underneath was the Draco she knew so well, the person that she had fallen in love with.

Pulling the duvet up to her neck, she buried deep against her pillow in thought. Could she be right? Moonlight shone through the window, the gaps in the curtains, casting an eerily romantic glow on her surroundings; the tall bookcase, her small portable television, the collection of stuffed toys nestling on a dusty shelf, the cream walls dotted with gold stars. How she longed for Draco to be with her; it was a cold night, and having Draco close to her would make her feel warm again.

At around ten o'clock, when Hermione was fitfully falling in and out of sleep, she heard her bedroom door open, and her mother whispered, "Hermione, are you awake?" Her daughter did not look up, however – she just burrowed further into her duvet, wishing that her mother would leave as so to leave her in peace to think. Hearing no reply, as first her mother faltered, thinking that she was asleep after all; but then, changing her mind, she crossed the room and sat on Hermione's bed near her feet. She rubbed her leg through the rough fabric of the duvet.

"I know you're not asleep, Hermione. I don't blame you" her voice was still quiet. "You must have a lot to think about". Her mother let out a small, barely audible sigh, but Hermione heard it clearly. This time, she turned her head slightly to get a better view of her mother; she was in her dressing gown, the belt tied around her slim waist in a neat bow. Her hair had been pinned at the base of her neck. Hermione managed a tired smile.

"I'll leave you to get some sleep" her mother patted her leg, and stood up from her position on the bed. Hermione placed her head on her pillow again. She heard her mother's feet cross the carpet, then a sharp intake of breath as she doubled back.

"I almost forgot" her mother said. "A note came for you, earlier on. An owl delivered it, an eagle owl. Do you know who it's from?" her mother quizzed her. Hermione shot up in bed in disbelief. Yes, she did know who the note was from! There was only one person she knew who owned an eagle owl. And that was Draco. She flushed in pleasure, though it wasn't clear to see so in the dark of her bedroom.

"It's from Draco, I know it is! Have you kept it?" she asked her mother. Mrs. Granger nodded in reply, and then pulled out a roll of parchment, tied with a red silk ribbon, out of the left pocket of her dressing gown. She stepped forward, and handed it to Hermione.

"I haven't opened it, I thought it might be private" her mother told her. Hermione quickly took the note into her hand, feeling the smoothness of the parchment in her palm.

"Goodnight, Hermione" her mother said.

"Goodnight" cane Hermione's reply. She was anxious to read the note that Draco had sent her. She wanted to know what he had written. She heard footsteps, and then her bedroom door closed with a soft click. She heard her mother going downstairs. Reaching up to switch on her bedside lamp, she propped herself up on her elbows. In the orange glow of the lamp, the note looked mysterious. She fingered the silk ribbon around the middle; she wound it round and round her finger like a red ring, and then unwound it, watching it curl out slowly and fall into a straight line across her left hand. She had never received anything as romantic its look before – not from anyone.

Carefully, she untied the bow of the ribbon, feeling the soft fabric with her fingers. She felt like a young child at Christmas; unwrapping so slowly, so carefully and with precision, yet overly excited and eager to see what was inside the wrapped package. The ribbon fell away, and the parchment slowly rolled out of its position. She could see Draco's elegant handwriting, and with eagerness she pulled open the parchment and read the note.

_Hermione,_

_It's only been a few hours but I miss you already. Anielle is fast asleep, and I'm lonely now. I can't wait for you to come and stay with me._

_I love you._

_From,_

_Draco._

A new burst of light seemed to open up her heart; she felt it rhythmically beating with happiness inside the walls of her chest. A smile crept across her face from ear to ear, as she read and reread the words that her boyfriend had written. She wondered how she ever ended up with someone as caring and loving as him.

Falling back onto her pillows, she read the note one last time, before slipping it between her duck-feather pillows for safekeeping. She was happy again. With Draco's words written into her heart, and her memory, she fell into a content, dreamless sleep, and all the while her thoughts of Draco and Anielle rested in the back of her mind.


	44. Soulmates

For the next few days, Hermione was content. She felt no need to worry; she knew that Draco and Anielle were safe and fine at the Manor in Wiltshire. She wished that she could visit them, but it was too early. He had promised her a stay once school was over, as it was their last year. She wouldn't have to hide anything from her classmates then.

Breakfast was an easy affair the Sunday after her return home. The three of them sat at the polished table, eating and drinking as if nothing dangerous and frightening was happening, when it was. Hermione admired her parents' strength. Their granddaughter was in danger and they were being ever so straightforward about it. On her second night at home for the holidays, her mother had come up to bedroom and sat on the edge of her bed.

"It'll be alright, Hermione" she had told her, rubbing her leg under the duvet. And Hermione had believed her.

"So what's your Easter present going to be this year?" her dad asked her over his cornflakes and _Dentist's Weekly_. Hermione always thought reading company tabloids were a bit too much, but her dad enjoyed it.

"Dad, don't ask me that. You know I don't like choosing my own presents" she smiled over her orange juice.

"Well, I – me and your mother – want to get you something special. You know that." He looked at his daughter. She put down her glass.

"I have an idea, Paul, how about I take Hermione into town so that she can pick?" Mrs. Granger turned in her seat. "What do you think, love?" Hermione faltered before answering. Then, she replied;

"No thanks, Mum, I'd rather you pick something out for me. I've got a lot of schoolwork to do this holiday" she jerked her head in the direction of her bag, which was lying up against the kitchen wall near the fridge, where she always left it when it wasn't in her room.

"Ok, then, darling. I'll go out and get you something special. You do your work – and try not to worry about Anielle too much, eh?" her mother said serenely, her voice soft and soothing. Hermione smiled, nodding her approval. Finishing her toasted bacon sandwich, she got up from the table, grabbed her school bag and made her way upstairs.

Sitting on her bed, she pulled out a thick volume on advanced potion making – _Advanced Potions Study, Volume Two_ – a long roll of parchment, a bottle of royal blue ink and her best eagle-feather quill. Reaching for and old, rectangular book to lean on, she wrote her name, the title of the assignment – _Amortentia; Advantages and Disadvantages of a Love Potion_ – and then got to work. It was typical of Professor Snape to set them a particularly difficult essay, as a lot of the work involved was actually based on personal opinion, whether you thought Amortentia was good or not. But you had to know the potions side too; for instance, if you did not know how to brew the potion, or even its ingredients, you could have trouble. Hermione thought for a moment, before dipping her quill in the ink and beginning to write.

_Amortentia is the most common and most powerful love potion known to witches and wizards today. Its extreme power of emotional control over the drinker, and its ability to create a more obsessive love than possibly imaginable, can be very dangerous. For centuries, Amortentia was used by wealthy wizarding families, who wished to marry their children into other wizarding families of the like, when he or she refused the proposition. It has been called a recipe for an excellent reputation by many, many important magical families, though many others have been torn apart by the power of this particular potion_

_It comes in many strengths, and therefore many levels of power, depending on the time of brewage and the amount of each ingredient used. When brewed to the most common variety, it should give off waves of fumes invisible to the naked eye; it is these fumes, on reaching the nostrils, that make the inhaler smell a mixture of scents that they are attracted to, and this varies from person to person, as we all have different tastes. Of course, in a stronger state these so-called fumes may shine a bright pink or scarlet; in some cases, they may rise from the cauldron purple, or in its purest state, silver. It is these form of Amortentia that are highly dangerous, and are banned by many wizarding companies and banned also of usage in many wizarding laws today; though the ingredients for this strength of the potion are often smuggled into the country and kept dry in warehouses and the like until ready to use. _

_Vast cauldrons of Amortentia are brewed every day by many of the wizarding world's richest families, in attempt to marry their heirs and heiresses into even more wealth, as stated above. Amortentia is though to be a gift, though what gift comes from obsessive love against the drinker's will? Often used with a weak form of a lust potion for a more effective result, Amortentia is considered a high cause of many successful marriages. The _

She stopped, her quill poised in mid-air above the creamy, off-white parchment. She listened, hard; she could have sworn that she had heard a noise. _Tap, tap, tap_. She whipped round, her heart thudding; and saw Draco's owl, Serafina, scrabbling at the smooth glass of the window. There was a letter, and what looked like a small box tied to one of her thin legs. Hermione jumped off the bed, almost knocking her ink bottle over; she was anxious to read what he had written to her. What would he be telling her this time?

She ran over to the window, wrenching upwards to open it, and Serafina flew in, hopped about on the windowsill, and then stilled and stuck out one of her spindly legs so that Hermione could untie her offerings. She took the box first; it was wrapped in gold paper, and tied with a silver, sparkly ribbon, rough to touch. Her heart leaped. No one had ever done anything like this for her before – it felt quite spooky, having all this attention. But it was also exciting, and she felt comforted knowing that someone cared for her romantically.

She set the box to the side on the table, and then went to untie the letter from the owl's leg. This was tied with a simple gold ribbon, matt smooth and elegant. Hermione felt her face flush; she looked around meekly, as if to check that her mother or father were hiding, watching her open her post from the eagle owl. She beamed as she fingered the smooth paper that she knew so well; she had been writing on that same type of paper for years, yet know it felt new and exciting – it gave her a slight thrill, not knowing what had been written on its pale surface.

Slowly, Hermione unrolled the letter, keeping the wrapped box aside for later. She hadn't known whether to open it or not, and was relieved that she hadn't after all when she read Draco's note.

_Hermione,_

_I thought I would send your present early, so as not to attract any nosey neighbours around this place – an owl flying over here night after night isn't exactly going to look normal in their eyes. DON'T open it until Easter morning, it's meant to be a surprise. I hope you like it. _

_It's bitter cold here, because there's no glass in most of the windows and the fireplaces are all dead, and I think Anielle might be getting another cold – then again, so am I probably. She keeps coughing and sneezing; I might take her to a Healer that I know who lives near the Manor if she gets any worse. Don't worry though – I'll look after her. She misses you. Her and me both._

_I love you,_

_Draco_

Hermione's heart was thudding. A smile spread across her face, reaching her ears and beyond. She didn't have to look in the mirror to know that her expression was a happy one. Poor Draco, having to stay in a freezing cold mansion! And Anielle…Anielle who was getting another cold. Another cold. Why did that phrase sound so strange in her mind? Another…yes she remembered now. That October night. The night she had eavesdropped on Draco and Madame Pomfrey behind the heavy oak door. She'd had a cold then – that's why Draco had taken her to the castle matron. It seemed odd, that it was that particular conversation that started it all…the very conversation, she dared say, that brought them together in the first place. But did she really believe it? Deep down, she had had an inkling all along that somehow she would have discovered the truth about Anielle anyway, even if she had not eavesdropped on the two of them that night.

Her eye wandered to the package on the table. It was calling out to her; the golden wrapping shone under the bright light of the bedroom. She had an urge to just take it, untie the ribbon, and rip off its wrapping to see what was inside. _No_! She instructed herself. _You mustn't open it until Easter morning. It's meant to be a surprise – Draco said so_. Easter morning. But that was six days away! It seemed like a lifetime. What could Draco possibly have sent her that concealed so much secrecy? What had he wanted her to open only on Easter morning, and not on any other day of the holidays? She shook her head. A thought hit her. No. It couldn't be….he couldn't have sent her a ring? _No, don't be stupid. You haven't even been together that long, not really. Five months isn't a lot when you think about it properly. _She tried to dismiss the thought, but it kept coming back to her. What if Draco really had given her a ring?

She turned and crossed back over to her bed, sitting herself down cross legged in front of the parchment and ink. She didn't feel like working any more. She would finish this essay another time. With a quick glance towards the door, she recapped the ink bottle, rolled the parchment carefully and tided away her quills, packing them into a case at the foot of her bed. Hermione took out her wand; with a flick, she whispered _Accio!_

The note and present flew from the table and landed in front of her. Resisting all temptation, she hid the box under her bed and completely out of sight; but knowing it was still there made her tingle with anticipation. She looked at the letter again, her brown eyes scanning the words that Draco had so lovingly written. How could she ever have doubted the youngest Malfoy? It seemed absurd…but Anielle was the youngest Malfoy now.

Hermione smoothed out the parchment, and lifted her pillow. The previous letter was still there, if slightly crumpled and worn from having Hermione sleep on it at night. She took it out from underneath the top pillow, and the ribbon which had tied it snaked onto her carpet; she picked it up, and laid it back on top of the pillow on the bottom. She peeled out the note, and read it again, though she already knew what it said off by heart.

_Hermione,_

_It's only been a few hours but I miss you already. Anielle is fast asleep, and I'm lonely now. I can't wait for you to come and stay with me._

_I love you._

_From,_

_Draco._

She scanned the page, concentrating on only the three words which appeared in both notes. She ran her finger over the dark ink, as if wanting to feel the words on her fingers. _I love you_. That's what he had written, both times. Her heart thudded in her chest, those three simple words embossed into her brain like dye might colour white fabric. _I love you_. So it was proved. She had heard him say it many a time before, when they were completely alone and Anielle was fast asleep in her cot upstairs. He would turn to her, and stroke her hair; and then he would look at her, pure devotion in his blue-grey eyes, and then he'd whisper those three words, "I love you". Hermione felt a hot flush creep all over her body; her sweater was uncomfortably warm around the collar. To have those words in writing just secured the fact that they were very much in love – and didn't care any more what people said about them. Because in truth, they didn't. It didn't matter to them what people thought.

Hermione inhaled deeply. She longed to visit the Manor – even if it was freezing cold! She wished she'd be able to stay close by him, during the day and at night. At night…it felt taboo somehow, to think of spending all night with him. All night. It made her shiver with a secret thrill. They had been intimate, yes, very intimate – but in their own way. He had made no remark, no comment, to show that he wanted to take things further….but the way he looked at her when they were together, and she knew it was on his mind. He was just waiting for the right moment. The thought of actually going all the way with a boy…someone like Draco…might have cringed her when she was younger. But Draco cared about her. He wouldn't try anything on. She knew he wouldn't. Going all the way…actual love-making…it made her turn scarlet, the thought of her and Draco alone, in bed together…hearts beating as they gave themselves to one another. It wasn't that far-fetched an idea – though the very thought of it brought excited jitters to her stomach.

She thought of it for the remainder of the morning, and most of the afternoon, too. And the more she thought of it, the more it made her think – she had fallen in love, and she had fallen in love with only who she could imagine to be the sweetest, most loving and caring boy she could think of. Draco was romantic – he had proved that. And he certainly loved her. He had proved that too. And it made her heart beat uncontrollably to think of him. She had been so lucky to meet someone like him – and she had been so wrong about him six years ago. He had changed. He was different. And change had been the best thing that ever happened to her. Anielle had been the icing on the cake. Her own daughter, a baby girl, who was growing up fast. A caring boyfriend and a small daughter who adored her.

Hermione knew she had found her soulmate in once Slytherin bully Draco Malfoy. And it made her happier than she had ever been before, despite everything they had been through, and the ever-present fear that Lord Voldermort's threat exerted over the couple and their daughter.

_**A/N: Well, what do you think? I wanted a bit of smut-insinuation in this chapter, just to heat things up a little bit…tell me what you think of that, please! And don't worry, those of you who have been reviewing in fear that this is the end, it's not! There will be a few more chapters left, I think, and soon the second part of this trilogy fic will be posted. So keep reviewing, and hope you enjoyed this chappie! **_


	45. Easter Monday

Easter morning came all too slowly, dragging out the week which it left behind like a snail crawling across a stone path. It seemed that years had passed before Hermione woke, yawning but secretly excited, on the clear, bright Monday morning that was the beginning of the second week of the Easter holidays.

She dived for the second drawer of her wooden bedside chest as soon as she got up, searching amongst the clothes and photographs and miscellaneous books to find the small, golden package that she had so eagerly wanted to open. All week she had been giving the drawer nervous, anxious glances, all the while wanting to open it, and find the package once again. About a hundred times in the last few days, Hermione had been under temptation; she longed to peel back the golden wrapping, just to take a mere peek at what Draco had given her for Easter. But, she resisted – and now the time had come, she wanted to relish it in peace.

Sitting up in bed, and pulling the duvet up to her armpits, she placed the golden package on her knees and looked at it. It was fairly small, less in size than a standard envelope but larger than an average jewellery box. It looked like the kind of packaging you would give a reasonably small bottle of perfume – but when she carefully rattled the box, it was clear that its content wasn't remotely heavy. She checked her bedroom door, checked that it was tightly closed. It was still dark out on the landing; no light was peeking through the gap under the door. She listened intently for the footsteps of her parents outside, but there were none.

_Perfect, I can have this moment all to myself._ She thought as she picked up the package, and fingered the sparkly silver ribbon tied around it. The paper, a metallic even gold, was smooth to touch and felt expensive. Her heart drummed as she slowly untied the ribbon and let it fall away from the package and onto the duvet.

Hermione bit her lip in anxiousness. What if he, after all Hermione's different conclusions, _had_ given her a ring as her present? Would she be surprised, or elated, or overwhelmed? All three? It was hard to tell. She gingerly rattled the box again. It sounded too light to be a ring, but still…maybe it wasn't a very heavy ring?

_Just open it, Hermione! You know you want to!_ Her head told her. She ran her fingers along the folded edges, finding the join where the overlapping paper was fixed to the rest. Carefully, but with all the inner excitement of a little girl at Christmas, she pulled open the flap and peered inside, three sides of the four still fixed closed. She saw the dark edge of a box, stretched in a fabric that was hard to tell its kind. Hermione positively _beamed_. Draco had obviously gone to a lot of trouble to acquire such an elegant present for her. A warm feeling erupted in her stomach, closely followed by pure ecstasy and happiness. So this was what being loved felt like.

Hermione upended the package, gently tipping out the box wrapped inside – and then her eyes widened. On the front, in gold ink, was stamped a symbol, one that she knew well. It was the symbol of a very, very expensive jeweller situated in London, and London only. She recognized the nightingale made of platinum solid gold immediately, and the fine silver chain which entwined around its ink-stamped feathers. She drew breath – then slowly lifted the lid of the box.

Her heart skipped a beat – no, two beats. Hermione could barely make a sound, but just smile and smile to herself in disbelief. There, lying in a swath of deep crimson velvet, was the most beautiful silver necklace she had ever seen. The heart-shaped, intricately engraved pendant gleamed in the shallow morning light. The diamonds which edged the pendant glinted and glimmered like sparkling stars – and the silver chain on which it was suspended was so fine and delicate it could have been made of spun silver thread.

Hermione could barely contain her happiness. Her mouth open in overwhelming shock, she lifted the pendant from its cove of velvet, and a small piece of parchment fluttered onto the bed. She picked it up, and read it. _Happy Easter, Hermione, _in Draco's handwriting. It certainly was a beautiful gift. The solid metal was cold from its time encased in the box, but it was smoother than plastic and so detailed you had to peer right up close to see its patterns. Hermione sniffed suddenly, tears forming in her eyes. She surprised herself by her show of such emotion.

This proved it. It had to be true. He really did love her – there was no question about it. And she truly loved him. It was fair to say that first impressions can sometimes be very wrong – and that was appropriate to Draco himself. Six years, she had hated him, thought he was a spoilt, good-for-nothing Slytherin who revelled in everyone else's misery and took pride in making people feel bad. But now, all that had changed. She no longer thought of him as a horrible bullying Pureblood who did everything in his power to make people feel miserable. He had, in fact, turned out to be one of the most caring people she had ever met, and it had taken a year of threats, cruel words and torture from his father for him to show his true colours.

She looked back at the necklace again. It was real silver – she knew that just from seeing it. It was an authentic; she knew that too; no wrongly-priced copy, that was for sure. This was the real thing. Just as her and Draco's love for each other was. Her brown curls bounced on her slim shoulders as she gathered up the paper and smoothed it out, placing it carefully in her drawer. She wanted to keep it; a reminder of this day. The ribbon, she curled up and put on top of the chest, letting it spring out into a wide spiral.

Hermione's door opened suddenly, and her mother appeared in the doorway, still in her dressing gown and slippers.

"Happy Easter, darling" she said brightly, stepping forward. "Your present is on the kitchen table" her eyes followed her daughters' to the bed, where the necklace lay swathed in the red velvet it came in. "But I see you've already had one gift". She smiled at Hermione.

"It's from Draco" she replied softly, smiling back and taking the necklace in her hands; the silver of the chain lay cold on her ivory skin. Her mother extended a hand.

"May I…?" she began. Hermione bit her lip in thought, and then reluctantly handed the box to her mother, who looked wide-eyed at the necklace inside.

"Hermione, this is an authentic Peruvian-engraved necklace!" she gasped. "The only jeweller I know who crafts these are Pinser & Kensington, they have a beautiful selection in London" she caught her daughter's eye, and Hermione nodded.

"I know" she said. "I didn't believe it either…I didn't expect something like this" her voice was now emotional, love burning her heart numb until all she could feel was apprehension for the next time she would see Draco again….at the beginning of the summer term. Their last ever term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"You're very lucky to have someone like him, Hermione. Don't let him go" her mother said, a hint of sadness in her voice. She had to smile at her mother. Wrinkles were forming at the corners of her honey-coloured eyes, between her eyebrows and around her pink lips. Her hair, brown and curly like Hermione's, was pinned up with grips at the back of her head. Her smile showed two even rows of pearly white teeth; years of careful eating, religious brushing and avoiding too many sweet treats. She had even made this rigorous care routine her career in later life. Hermione was rather different to her mother; though she had always felt close to her.

The difference mostly came in appearance more than personality. Whereas her mother was rather flat-chested, Hermione's own ample chest was much more voluptuous by comparison. Where her mother was almost hairless, the darkened V between Hermione's legs differed. Her mother's wrists were thicker, because even in her small frame she was bigger-boned than her daughter. Yes, there were differences between Deborah and Hermione Granger – but they were mother and daughter, all the same.

Her mother handed her the necklace with a smile could have almost been sympathy. Hermione understood how she felt; if it were Anielle who was in so much danger, with a child in so much danger, she would feel the same. That was the one of the downs of being a mother; you will just about do anything for your children to be safe.

Hermione got up out of bed, gently placing the necklace on her chest of drawers. She searched for a pair of her bleached jeans, and pulled on a navy sweater with a deep v-neck, remembering to put a white vest underneath so as to show her cleavage, but not too much. Tugging a brush through her curls, she turned towards her chest of drawers. Last but not least, she lifted the beautiful piece of jewellery out of the box and unclasped the back. Carefully looping it around, she fixed it at the nape of her neck and let it drop into place. The diamond-set pendant rested millimetres from her cleavage – the fine chain glinted in the light, now stronger, coming from the gaps in the curtains covering the windows. She looked at herself in the mirror, her cheeks pink with pleasure, the ivory skin of her face, chest and neck smooth and milky. She had come a long way since she had first stepped into the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts almost seven years ago.

--

Her necklace glimmering under the spotlights of the kitchen, she waited for her mother to bring her present through from the living room. Each year, it was a tradition for Hermione to go into town with her mother and choose for herself her Easter present from her parents; but things were different this year. In light of recent events, Hermione had decided not to go with the tradition and allow her parents to choose for her, for it to be a surprise.

"Here you are, love" her mother handed her a rectangular-shaped parcel wrapped in spotted emerald green paper. It felt hard round the front and back, but slightly softer in the middle. Finding the taped flaps at the corners, she pulled the paper off the parcel with eagerness. What she saw when she was finished was a writing book, the covers backed with ivory velvet and gold plated corners. A single, thin gold ribbon attached to each cover tied the book closed. She fingered the pages. There were more than two hundred of them.

"It's great!" Hermione exclaimed, "Thanks mum". She grinned broadly. Mrs. Granger nodded in approval.

"And now your present from me, darling" her father butt in, reaching under the table for a much larger, gold-wrapped package. It was then, as he handed it to her, that he finally noticed the necklace glinting around her neck.

"Wherever did you get that?" her father asked, unable to keep shock from his face. Hermione looked down.

"This?" she fingered her necklace. "Draco got it for me, for Easter. It's beautiful" she couldn't suppress a warm smile as she spoke his name. Colour bled into her cheeks; she could feel herself glowing pink with pleasure.

"Really?" her father inquired. "Those are real diamonds? Blimey, I didn't think that he would be able to afford something like that" Hermione's turn to receive the shock. She knew that 'he' meant Draco and what her father was trying to say was because he had no house, parents, friends or relatives, he had no money either. She glared at her father almost disapprovingly over the table, unable to resist a long, hard look. Her father recoiled in alarm, then fully realised what he had supposedly suggested.

"Oh, you know what I mean..." her father said quickly. "You know, given the circumstances, I just thought..." his wife gave him a glare from across the table. He abruptly finished his sentence, and mumbled

"Well, I'll just be off to...get ready then" and left the table. Hermione and her mother exchanged glances before Mrs. Granger rose to clear the breakfast things from the table. Hermione soon followed suit, but took her writing book upstairs to her bedroom – along with the present from her father - rather than stay in the kitchen.

Once in the privacy of her room, she put the gold-wrapped package on the bed and looked at it. She knew what it was – a giant Easter egg, something special, probably in metallic paper and tied with ribbon. It was just about the only big treat of the sugary kind that she received all year, apart from at Christmas of course. Opening it, she put it on top of her chest of drawers under the window for safekeeping. She decided to crack open the chocolate egg later, once she was in her pyjamas and flicking through night-time television.

She turned to the ivory-velvet writing book resting on her duvet. Untying the bow that held it closed, the covers fell apart to reveal the creamy white pages between them. But what to write? She could think of a million uses for this book...a diary, a journal, a record of her daughter's growth, facts and figures; revision notes for her N.E.W.T exams the end of the year. The possibilities were endless. _What about all of them?_ Said a voice in her head. _You could write anything and everything. It doesn't just have to be one thing. _She contemplated the thought. What if this book were her life story? An autobiography, as such? It was beautiful and majestic enough. And no one else would have to read it. It could be for her eyes only...

Turning to the first page, she took out one of her eagle-feathered school quills and a bottle of ink from her drawer. Steadying her hand, she rested the book open on her lap and wrote her name, Hermione Jean Granger, on the very first line. Then she paused. She placed the tip of the quill in her mouth to think. What else could she write? _24__th__ March, 2008._ That was the date sorted. She suddenly felt very silly and stupid. A seventeen year old girl writing a diary! The thought now crossed her mind as being childish. But it didn't stop her from writing what was on her mind at that very moment. In fact, it didn't stop her doing much else until later on that afternoon, when her mother came upstairs to tell her that her grandparents were here.

She quickly looked at what she had written. Pages and pages, covered in neat lines of blue ink script. Her feelings for Draco. Her worries about Anielle. The kindness of her parents, the way they had accepted it all. It was all here, written down between the covers of a book. She sighed, and, tying it closed once again, she put it in her drawer and left quickly for the living room. Did her grandparents know that they were now _great_-grandparents?

She imagined trying to explain to them that their granddaughter – who was once bushy-haired, as clever as you could get and wore ballet pumps everywhere – was now a mother herself, at the age of seventeen only. But she didn't care. Let them rant and rave if they wanted. There were other things that were closer to Hermione's heart now than what the older generation of the Granger family thought of her position. Much, much more close things.

**_A/N: Sorry if I've taken a bit long to update, but with end-of-term school stuff and everything I haven't had the chance! Anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter and hopefully this story isn't getting a bit long for you! So, I'll have the next chappie up pretty soon and in the meantime, don't forget to review and tell me what you think! xx_**


	46. Narcissa's Warning

For the rest of the holidays, Hermione was elated. She would finger her necklace whilst pouring over a thick volume required for her homework; thought of Anielle, and of Draco, as she happily ate her Easter egg or sat up in bed reading. She hadn't had another letter from him in a few days, but his previous two she savoured and slept on under her pillow. Sometimes, when she felt as though none of this could be real, she pulled them out from under the pillows, smoothed them over, and read them, again and again, just to convince herself that it wasn't a made-up story. It _was_ real. She was in love with a man she never thought she'd even _like_, ever. She had a beautiful daughter whom she loved – they both did – and they would both do anything to protect her from harm. That was the part of the story, however, Hermione did not like remembering. The danger.

--

The evening before she returned to Hogwarts, Hermione was sitting up in bed, pouring over a huge tome on Defensive magic, when a sharp peck at her window startled her. It shot through the room like a bullet, ringing in Hermione's ears. She whipped round, curls flailing, to the direction of the noise. A smile spread across her alabaster face. Serefina was hoping on one ropy leg just outside her window, carrying a roll of cream parchment in her pointed yellow beak. Hermione quickly shut the book and climbed out of bed, hurried over to the window and opened it eagerly as to let the owl inside. Serefina jumped onto the low desk under the window and ruffled her feathers as Hermione closed the window behind her. She bent down to untie the letter she was carrying.

The parchment was rougher, heavier than before. It was curling slightly at the edges and was more of an off-white colour than the usual cream of her previous letters. But Hermione didn't really mind – she wasn't awfully picky about the presentation (though her last two letters had been beautifully handled), she just wanted to see what Draco had written this time.

Carefully unrolling the parchment and laying it flat on the desk, she saw handwriting she didn't recognise, and her smile faded for a moment. It wasn't from Draco this time. It was from someone else. But it had been sent by Serefina...which meant that the person who sent the letter knew Draco, because that person used his owl to send it. Her mind momentarily flashed to Narcissa, his mother. Could she have written the letter? Hermione wasn't one to judge, but the handwriting did seem more female than male...perhaps it _was_ from Narcissa. But no. She remembered a nightmare she had had several months ago. Narcissa had been kidnapped from her home by Lord Voldermort himself, despite her protests that she had had nothing to do with her son's deceit. Now that Voldermort was more determined than ever to get his hands on Anielle, surely he wouldn't have let Narcissa go that easily?

Taking a breath, amongst her confusion, she let her eyes fall to the parchment in front of her and read the letter.

_Dear Hermione Granger,_

_I'm writing this to you for your own personal safety. I don't have much time, so I will say this only once and you must read what I am about to tell you very, very carefully. It's for your benefit as well as your daughter and Draco. He has received this very same letter, but I have strictly told him not to tell you any of the information in case the letter is intercepted. The Dark Lord has his spies everywhere, people on the lookout for him. It would be more than my life's worth to give him wind that I have contacted either of you._

_The Dark Lord has been talking of taking more serious action. I have heard him say more than once, that he is planning a much bigger, more complex plan to kidnap Anielle. He's outraged that he has been fooled yet again by the both of you, and that has made him even more determined to take Anielle away from you. But he's been thinking outside the box. In his mind, the only thing standing in the way of him taking your daughter is the knowledge that there are two of you. He believes that, if he were to destroy one of you, then the other will be weaker alone than you are as a couple. This means, of course, that he believes that through killing one of you, the other won't be as much of a defence for Anielle and in turn, not as much of a threat to him. _

_I know how you feel about my son, and how he feels about you. I must say that I would never have thought you to accept this situation so readily. Draco was considerably hurt when he discovered your identity just weeks before your daughter's birth, and I must admit I felt guilty that I had agreed to such a plan. I had never expected it to turn out like this, but the relationship you both share with one another is the most genuine I have come across. Despite everything, it was a personal happiness to see the both of you put past differences aside in such a terrible ordeal. But of course, in light of this new information, this could be a threat to you. I would feel personally at fault if one of you was to die, and I know that losing you is the very thing that Draco dreads every single day, and I assume correctly that this is true vice versa._

_Please, for your own sakes, don't go wandering into things you don't know. My advice to you, and I have said this to Draco also, is to keep you wits about you. Look out for any sign of danger and try to avoid it as best as possible. The Dark Lord is a very powerful sorcerer. He will have his ways of ensuring your utmost suffering. _

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Narcissa Malfoy_

Hermione exhaled loudly a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding. Her hands and fingers shook as she smoothed out the parchment. She suddenly felt very scared. Lord Voldermort was going to track down, and kill, one of them. He believed that they would be weaker, less of a threat, if it was just one of them fighting for Anielle.

The very notion of it made her feel ill, and a swell of nausea rose up from the pit of her stomach. The thought of losing Draco was just too much to bear; as was the thought of him alone without her. Trying to swallow the bile that threatened to rise up her throat, she scooped up the letter from Narcissa and slipped it between the pages of a nearby book, her fingers fumbling with the thick pages, before shutting it away in a drawer. But the words still lingered in her mind like a swarm of irritating wasps. She stumbled as she made her way back across to her bed, scrabbling for the duvet just for something to hold onto.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out her queasy stomach and relax. But how could she? She was shaking from head to foot, her heart beating in her chest heavily, her whole body turned cold with fear. She thought of the lengths that Draco's mother must have had to reach to contact both of them. She felt slightly safer in the knowledge that Narcissa was concerned about them, her especially. But it didn't quell the quaking of her arms and legs as she reached out to turn off the bedside lamp, by which she had been reading.

Hermione didn't get much sleep that night, even though she would have to be up early the next morning for the return journey back to Hogwarts.

**_A/N: Sorry sorry sorry that I've taken so long to update with this story, but my computer broke and I wasn't able to get access to Microsoft Word to write any new chapters. But, after the long wait, here is chapter 46 for you to enjoy. It's a bit short, I know, but the next chapters will be longer as we reach the end of Draco & Hermione's last year at Hogwarts. Oh, and don't forget to review! xx_**


	47. The Prisoner Pays The Price

The remaining days of the Easter holidays passed in a blur. Hermione finished her essay on Amortentia for Professor Snape; it was at least five inches longer than he had asked for, but it really wasn't her problem right now. Whatever she did, the true reality of Narcissa's warning plagued her – Lord Voldermort really was after them now, and he was going to stop at nothing. If what Narcissa had said was indeed true, and Hermione had no reason to doubt the woman, then Voldermort was going to try to kill one of them. Alone, the remaining 'survivor' would be less of a threat to him, and he would be more open to taking Anielle.

Hermione finished packing her trunk soon after a breakfast of dry toast and juice, though she hadn't been up to eating much. She was looking forward to returning for her final term at Hogwarts, of course she was; but the knowledge that once they graduated, they would no longer be in the protection of the several hundreds of charms and spells surrounding the castle walls, she felt a little nervous. She tried to imagine Draco's reaction to his mother's letter – what would he say to her when she saw him? What would _she_ say to _him_?

Locking her trunk carefully, and taking one last look over her bedroom to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, she slowly made her way out onto the landing, closing the door behind her with a sadness that felt as if she were saying goodbye to her friend of many years. Her mother was waiting for her in the hallway, coat already on and a sympathetic expression on her face. Her father had already left for the dental practice early.

"Cheer up, Hermione" her mother patted her on the small of her back "you'll be back with your friends soon". Hermione could only just manage to smile half-heartedly in return to her mother's gesture. The pair made their way down the drive, her mother locking the door behind her, offering to carry Crookshank's cage while the cat hissed loudly at his transportation.

The drive to King's Cross was a quiet one. Hermione and her mother exchanged a look, or a smile, an expression once or twice, but no words were said. They didn't have to be said. Mrs. Granger knew what her daughter was going through. She understood. Hermione contented herself with looking absent-mindedly out of the car window, watching the early-morning traffic whip past, the busy streets with their orange lamplights and barely-there, twiggy trees turning into rolling green hills as they left Southampton and moved downwards towards Oxford and London.

Hermione was worried. Worried and very scared. Lord Voldermort was going to kill either her or Draco, very soon she suspected. Perhaps he would break into the Tower, murder them in their beds, just like he had tried to do the last time. Or perhaps, he might just appear; long black robes whirling, scarlet eyes gleaming with fury, his lipless mouth curled into a menacing smile….

Hermione shivered violently in her seat, but not of the cold, though a chilly mist was pressing itself against the glass of the window. Outside, she saw large, dirt-coloured hills stretching far into the distance. Way into the horizon, she could just see a plume of grey smoke issuing from a small house in a town far away. More buildings appeared – offices, blocks of flats, a couple of tall, rusty cranes. These were the signs that London wasn't that far away.

_And Voldermort isn't either, _a voice in her mind told her _he isn't far away at all; he could be nearer than you think_. She shuddered again, the hairs on her cream skin rising. She closed her eyes, tried to think of something different. Anything but Voldermort. Anything but danger. Anything at all.

So she thought of Draco. How good it would be to see him again, after a long fortnight apart. And Anielle of course. She felt a sudden pang thinking about her daughter. Her fingers reached for the necklace he had given her, a heart of real diamonds and pure, solid silver. She twirled it in her long fingers, feeling the rough cut of each individual diamond, and the smooth surface of the silver, shining in the now strengthening light coming in through the window. The sun was breaking through the off-white clouds. Patches of a dirty blue sky could be seen in the spaces where the rest of the cloud had dispersed.

Soon enough, they reached the bustling chaos that was King's Cross Station. Her mother parked; made sure she had a valid ticket, and then opened the door to help Hermione with her school things. She fetched her trunk from the boot – it fell to the concrete floor with a wooden _thud_ – and Hermione stroked Crookshank's pink whiskery nose through the bars of the cage to which he was confined, yellow eyes watching Hermione closely.

There were people everywhere – station officers, policemen, commuters, children clutching at travel cases and anxious parents, checking watches and timetables, asking questions. Had it really been this buys each time she had travelled to and from here? She and her mother made their way across the cold lobby, dim with the slight amount of light being let in through blinded windows, and out onto the platform. They squeezed their way amongst office workers, dressed smartly in pressed suits and wearing stern expressions; they edged past chairs and rail-side benches crammed with exhausted toddlers, whining and not fully awake yet, mums with buggies (this made Hermione's eyes smart, but she hastily wiped her tears away) and businesslike fathers, noses close to train leaflets and all manner of multi-coloured brochures.

She craned her neck to search for the plastic white signs that read '9' and '10', for this was her gateway back to school. As they walked, the hustle and bustle died down. Less and less people were situated down this end of the station, and except for a couple of blank-faced, portly station wardens and a gaggle of young students, it was fairly empty. Hermione looked at the giant clock on the wall – it was 10:30. Plenty of time to spend a few minutes with Draco alone, she yearned to be back in his arms, to feel the warmth of his body…

"Always packed, I don't know how we've managed it all these years. Right, you lot, get over there and we'll start sending you through, come on, don't dawdle, we've got a few things to sort out…"

"Molly, leave it, they're old enough to do it themselves…"

"I'm not a baby; I can get onto the platform _by myself, _mum…."

She heard mismatched voices coming from a tight knot of redheads near the plastic sign that read '9'. She knew at once who they were, and had to resist the urge to march right over. Instead, she walked along with her mother even slower, taking in the busy scene around her and drawing great, nervous breaths. As much as she wanted to see her friends, there was one face she was desperate to see above any other. But she couldn't spot him immediately amongst the crowds. Then she remembered that he would be coming alone, at the last minute, after everyone else. To stop Anielle being seen. Hermione's heart fell. She would definitely be on the train already when he arrived.

"_Hermione!"_ a girl's voice exclaimed from somewhere to her left. She whipped round, and saw Ginny Weasley waving frantically at her, Harry and Ron by her side. She suppressed a sigh of disappointment. Harry had spent his Easter at The Burrow with Ron without her. She quickly shook her head, looked at her mother, and then with a nod of approval, went off to join her friends.

"How are you? We didn't hear from you all Easter!" Ginny asked her enthusiastically.

"I've been busy, that's all. Stuff to do" she struggled to keep her voice level. The nervousness and fear she had felt before in the car returned to her. Lord Voldermort's threat was getting ever closer…she knew that now…she realised that she finally knew how Harry had felt for the past five years….scared, helpless, the sense of lonlines…

"Where did you get _that_?" Ron said loudly, pointing to her chest where the silver necklace lay. His blue eyes were wide in awe, and something else; disbelief?

"Err, I…" she stuttered, looking around her carefully to check that no one was listening, none of the other Weasleys or anyone else for that matter. Then she said, her voice low and quiet, "Draco gave it to me. As an Easter present" Ginny's mouth dropped open. Harry stared at her as if she'd grown two heads. Ron shook his head in surprise. Hermione's expression remained blank.

"He did?" Ginny gasped. "Well, I never thought he would…you two must be…I mean, I thought it was…" Ginny trailed off. Hermione knew exactly what was on her mind. She had never told any of her friends that she and Draco were so serious, relationship-wise. It was something sacred, a secret, only for her. Ron gaped at her, his mouth opening and then shutting again, lost for words.

"But, Hermione" Harry said. "That looks really _expensive_" he dropped his green-eyed gaze to the necklace. Hermione, on instinct, reached up to close her fingers around the cool metal.

"I think it's wonderful" she said after a while. Ginny, Harry and Ron were lost for words, which was just as well – Mrs. Weasley had appeared at their elbows pink-cheeked and looking anxious.

"Right, it's time to get on the train, come on…off you go, come on" she ushered them – Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny – over to the wall between platforms 9 and 10. They all dragged their trunks (and three cages) in their wake as they fought wordlessly to get a good position for getting through the barrier. Hedwig hooted in protest at all the sudden movement, and Harry fed her an owl treat to keep her quiet.

"Right, Ron, Ginny, you go first, then Harry and Hermione can go after you. Come on, now – Ginny, stop teasing your brother's owl! – Ron, off you go…" she pushed her youngest son forward, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek (which made him turn scarlet) and then he turned, trunk and Pig in tow, walked forward and disappeared through the brick barrier. Then it was Ginny's turn. She too walked through the barrier and disappeared. Then Harry. He grinned at her as he too disappeared through to Platform 9 ¾. Only Hermione was left now. With an encouraging smile from Mrs. Weasley, she manoeuvred her trunk and Crookshank's cage to face the front, straight towards the barrier. She nervously checked the clock on the wall behind her. 10:46. Ten minutes left until she would be on her way to Hogwarts again. There was still no sign of Draco at all. Was he already on the Platform? Had he boarded the train without her?

Something blocked Hermione's train of thought. Her head suddenly felt fuggy, as if full of cotton wool. It was hard to hear the sounds around her. It all seemed quieter, too distant, as if it were coming from somewhere far away. She strained her ears, and only just heard the faint whistle of a portly station warden on the other side of the Platform, issuing a Glasgow-bound train on its way…her eyelids were heavy, and her feet were lead. She couldn't move. She had the sick, scared feeling that this had happened to her before. And it had. It had happened to her many a time in the past few months. Her eyelids drooped again, but this time stayed fully closed. The scene inside the black of Hermione's mind changed. A sudden rush of cold air made goose bumps appear on her skin, and saw the same, wood-panelled, dark, dank room she had been visiting for a while.

"_If I say so myself, Wormtail, my latest plan has been one of…shall we say?...great excellence. One of my best yet. Old magic has gone, Wormtail, I should have foreseen that, and in its place comes a new kind of curse, does it not? Wormtail! Are you following this?" a cold, high, angry voice bounced off the wood-panelled walls. A tall, cloaked figure whirled round, scarlet eyes malevolent with glee and fury. _

_A small, watery-eyed man with a balding head emitted a squeak. _

"_Yes, master, My Lord, you're right…young Malfoy does not stand a ch-chance now against you!" his voice was higher than normal, and he was fidgeting a lot. _

"_Good, Wormtail, I see you're head isn't as full of sawdust as I first thought. Now! I must prepare my attack…make sure I have no defences up against me, I must do this alone, I cannot risk the misplaced trust of my comrades, not again…ah, if only Lucius had not been such a coward…I'm sure he would have taken great pleasure in watching his son die" Lord Voldermort laughed coldly, stretching his pale arm out, long white fingers extended, as if he were examining his limbs. Over in the corner, Wormtail twitched. _

"_Wormtail!" Voldermort barked, drawing breath through his snake-like nose. _

"_Yes, master?" came the squeak of the servant._

"_Fetch the prisoner. Bring her here. I have a few matters to discuss with her" his scarlet eyes narrowed, lipless mouth smirking proudly. His expression changed. "Fetch her now, Wormtail! There is no time for dawdling!"_

_Wormtail rushed off, small feet pattering on the bare floorboards. Lord Voldermort paced angrily, long fingers curled around his wand inside his great black robes. He paused, only to draw breath carefully, and then proceeded. Moments later, Wormtail returned, gripping the arm of a fragile-looking woman, older than her true years. She had once been a very pretty woman, but the pain and worry of the past years had etched her face, aging her. Her long, ash-blonde hair trailed down her back, reaching her waist. She was thinner than she had ever been. And great fat, salty tears were streaming down her pale face._

_Wormtail announced, "The prisoner, my Lord" and he bowed to his master before throwing her roughly into the middle of the room, where she landed painfully with a whimper. She was shaking violently, great raking sobs filling the room. Lord Voldermort walked forwards to meet his hostage._

"_Well, well, Narcissa, we meet again" he snarled provocatively. Narcissa swallowed hard, not wanting to make eye contact with the villain in front of her. "And so extraordinarily like your pathetic husband you behave! Weak, broken, scared…it's almost as if you are ashamed to be in the presence of your old master" he purred smoothly. _

_Narcissa shook violently once more. Then, with a gasping breath, she cried, "Don't hurt him! Please…take me instead…I'm weaker, I beg you…please don't hurt him…have me…my-my o-only son…please don't hurt Draco, please don't hurt him…-"_

"_SILENCE!" Voldermort screamed. "Enough with your snivelling bile! I received the same begging speech from your husband, and look where he ended up because of it? Cold in his grave, where not even the flies will appreciate him…"_

_Narcissa gave a small scream. Voldermort tutted under his breath. _

"_Dear, dear, Narcissa…you used to be such a useful comrade to me…so willing to cooperate, so willing to serve your Master….what happened? What made you so readily want to leave?" he snarled coldly again. It was almost as if he were talking to himself, and not to the frail, frightened woman in front of him. All was quiet for a moment. Then, she said, _

"_My son happened" her voice was quiet. "I couldn't let him be raised into such a life". _

"_Oh, but you did, didn't you? You made a mistake. A very big, cowardly mistake. And now he has to pay the price. And he _will_ pay the price. He is in my debt. He owes me for his foolish deceit" he said matter-of-factly. Narcissa whimpered again on hearing Lord Voldermort talk about her son. _

"_But first…let's see…I shall deal with you, in the most – appropriate way" his voice curled. His right hand, clenched around his wand, rose out of his robes. He pointed it directly at Narcissa, who was in a crumpled heap in front of him. He drew breath loudly._

"_CRUCIO!" he screamed._

"_AAARGHHH!" _

"Hermione! _Hermione! HERMIONE!" _a voice called out. "Are you alright?"

**_A/N: Finally I managed to get another chapter up! Sorry about the long wait for this one, and all the others - I've been so busy what with coursework and schooland everything I haven't found the time. But I hope to start updating more often soon! But for now, though, I hope you enjoyed this chappie...and don't forget to drop off a review on your way out! Much love xx_**


	48. Realisation

Hermione woke, bleary-eyed and confused, to see bright green eyes staring down at her and a loud rickety noise was echoing in her ears.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry asked her slowly. She felt his hand on her arm. It took her a moment to realise she was lying down across something soft. Soft and cold. The leather seat of one of the train carriages. She was on the train.

"Narcissa" she whispered. "Narcissa, Draco's mother…she's in trouble, I saw You-Know-Who torturing her" only Harry could hear her voice, and he nodded as if he understood. Then came another boy's voice, louder and more concerned.

"You were screaming" Ron said quietly. "And then, you, sort of….well…collapsed" he finished with a miserable tone. Hermione knew that already. Her head spun as she tried to sit upright. Harry helped her steer herself the right way round in her seat and her foot connected with something large and heavy. Her school trunk. A hissing noise told her that Crookshank's cage was balanced on top.

Narcissa…the amount of trouble she had got herself into for her and Draco! She was trying her best to protect them, but all she was doing was making things worse for herself. She saw her in her mind's eye, crumpled in a terrified heap on the bare floorboards in that dark, dank room, tears streaming down her face, begging Voldermort to kill her instead. The thought made a shiver run down her spine. She didn't deserve such a willing protector. She was Draco's mother. She had every right to try and protect _him_. But she never thought Narcissa would even think about her. The thought of Draco gave her a sudden, uncomfortable pang. Where was he?

Her head throbbed and she felt dizzy. It had all seemed so real. With a sickened feeling, she remembered that it was real. Everything about her visions was real. And now, after this most recent one, she longed to be with Draco more than anything. She fought back tears as she looked around the carriage. Three white, shocked faces were looking back at her. Ginny looked close to tears. And guilt came back to her again. And the fear. The loneliness, the fright, the desperation…she felt ill. Ill with fright. Ill with worry. Ill with longing.

"What happened?" came Ron's quiet voice over in the corner of the compartment. Hermione turned, her head spinning though she tried to ignore it as much as she could. She didn't know how to answer. How could she explain her visions to them? Ron wouldn't understand. He would think she was going mental. Ginny would just get upset and over-friendly. And Harry…well, Harry would be worried. He knew what these visions felt like. He'd had them himself, last year and the year before last, when Voldermort was attempting to penetrate his mind…

"I'm scared" she gasped tearfully after a while, not really knowing what she was saying. "I'm really, really scared" tears fell down her cream-skinned cheeks. Ginny leaned over to put a hand on her arm. Harry put his own arm around her shoulders. And Ron…Ron didn't do anything. He just sat there, a look of silent sympathy on his face. He was still a bit shell-shocked about the necklace. There it hung, perfectly still on her ample chest, the diamonds glimmering and glittering the bright yellow light from the carriage lamps.

"Hermione, it's okay…it's okay" Ginny said softly. "We'll be back at Hogwarts soon. There'll be teachers there who will look after you, and Malfoy, and…Anielle" she dropped her voice at the last bit, glancing nervously at the carriage door. Hermione cried even harder. Her friends were being so supportive. They truly cared. That was what she valued the most right now. That, and Draco's love. It was the two things she needed if she were to survive this nightmare she was living. She didn't want to end up like poor Narcissa. She didn't want to be forced, scared, into hiding, into doing things she didn't want to do. That wouldn't be her.

And yet, it grew on her with an ever-threatening notion that their ordeal was only just beginning. In light of Narcissa's warning, she had hardly slept at night, not comfortable with being so far away from Anielle and Draco. It bit into her flesh and made her heart beat faster and her skin clammy. If only there was a way of being truly safe.

Hermione wiped her face with the sleeve of her jumper, dried her eyes as best she could. She had to be strong. Hadn't Draco told her that? If they showed weakness, then it would be certain to anyone that they were buckling under Lord Voldermort's intimidation. If that happened, then they didn't have a chance against him. Yes. Draco was right. But it still didn't stop her from becoming a broken soul in his arms, and he in hers. When they were alone, they could let each other know how scared they were. But outside of their own sanctuary…that was different story. Anyone could be spying on them. Especially Pansy Parkinson.

The thought of the sour bitch made Hermione's skin crawl. She had bullied her, teased her, attacked her, nearly _killed_ Draco…she had every right to hate her with every single fibre of her body. She was the only other person in the world, apart from Voldermort, Professor Snape and Professor Trelawney, that she really _hated_. It was all her fault she lay awake at night, anxious to know if her boyfriend and daughter were still alive and breathing in the next room.

"You know, Hermione, things will be alright…" Harry said. "I know they will. Bad things were always happening to me, weren't they? But I'm still here now" Hermione managed a smile. Ginny gave a broad grin that reached her eyes and further beyond. Hermione was confused. She watched her two friends, trying to make some kind of sense of their expressions. And then, it hit her. Of course. Ginny…Ginny wasn't over Harry. That was the plain notion of it. She still had feelings for him. Hermione held down the desire to laugh at her discovery. A pink blush rose up her cheeks. She hoped Ginny didn't realise she'd caught on.

_I wonder if she's told Harry._ She thought to herself. _I wonder if he knows Ginny still has feelings for him._ For a moment, she forgot everything. The sadness and despair she had been feeling melted away. She felt comforted by knowing that there were people in the world who were hurting too. People who had been betrayed, stabbed in the back, crushed. Narcissa. Ginny. She wasn't alone. She wasn't the only one in a horrific turmoil of sadness. Other people were too.

And as long as she felt she wasn't alone in her feelings, the easier she thought it would be to carry on and be as strong as she could. Because Lord Voldermort wasn't backing down any time soon.

**_A/N: Righto, another chapter finished! Okay, I know it's a bit short, but I wanted this to be a kind of filler chapter until we get to Hogwarts...I hope you enjoyed it. There will be a lot more Draco/Hermione interaction next chapter, as well as a few more surprises...so, hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I'll try not to keep you too long til the next one! Don't forget to review! xx_**


	49. Friends Like These

The journey up toward the castle was a quiet one. Hermione and the others barely spoke to each other as they rode in one of the carriages up the stony path to the winged gates. They didn't need to. Hermione was grateful enough that they were just _there_, supporting her. With friends like these…she knew that could pull through. Just.

But there was one person missing. A person who, no doubt, probably wouldn't be accepted into her group of Gryffindor friends even though he was suffering just the same as she was. She thought about him now, and suppressed the urge to cry again. She touched the dried tears on her cheeks with her fingertips. How many times had she cried in the past few months? It was easy to lose count. She had lost herself completely so many times, sometimes in anger, sometimes in fear, sometimes in anguish and sometimes for no reason at all…though the last one probably had something to do with the fact she had Draco to lean on. A shoulder to cry on. Someone to lie with at night and know that they loved her. It was more than she could have ever dreamed of, that kind of protection, that kind of feeling when you know that someone out there would do anything for you…

_Just like Narcissa is risking her own life to keep you safe_ her mind subconsciously thought. She thought of how, when she had seen her for the first time – at the Quidditch World Cup, no less – with her husband and son, she had thought that she was a prejudiced, haughty, aristocratic woman with no thought for anything else except her own image and her own reputation. But, that had changed the second – or really, third – time Hermione had seen her. Just last year, when she had accompanied her son to Diagon Alley, and he had complained that she was being overprotective…Hermione resisted the urge to smile when she thought of this memory. Of course, it hadn't been a particularly good experience – Draco had called her a Mudblood (as he had usually done up until now for the past six years she had known him) and then proceeded to antagonize Harry and Ron. But just the notion that she had had the good in her to want to protect Draco from danger, even if she had been haughty and aristocratic then, was enough to make Hermione realise that she wasn't really that bad. Just a devoted mother, wanting to protect her only child.

Before she knew it, the carriage had stopped in line with the others in front of the great oak doors of the castle. Orange light from the torches spilled out of the windows and illuminated the darkening evening. The chatter and laughter of students as they disembarked the carriages filled the air in seconds. Hermione, following the others, climbed out, pulling her trunk and Crookshank's cage along behind her. They filed out into the jostling crowds of students as they made their way toward the main entrance. Hermione scanned the close-knit groups of youths, hoping to spot Draco. But she couldn't see him. He wouldn't want to risk people seeing him with Anielle, anyway. She just hoped that the two of them would be waiting for her in the Heads' Common Room, just like last time, when he had 'borrowed' Harry's Invisibility Cloak and sneaked up on her from behind. She was still wondering how he managed to steal it – ahem, _borrow_it – from Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione allowed herself to be led up the marble steps to the entrance. Her trunk was heavy, and for the first time did Hermione realise how tired she was. It must have only been around five o'clock, six at the latest, but her eyelids were heavy. She couldn't wait to get up to the Common Room, lie down the bed and sleep…especially if Draco was with her. She blushed at that thought, her cheeks going rosy in the evening light. Hopefully no one would spot her red face, most of all Harry, Ron or Ginny. Well, not so much Ginny. But Harry or Ron would probably curl up and die on the spot if they knew what was going on inside her head. It was at times like these that she was lucky Harry was so bad at Occlumency and Legilimency alike.

The feast passed quickly, with nothing much new being said from Professor McGonagall, just the unusual announcements; the Forbidden Forest was out of bounds, reminders that Filch had added yet another rule to the very, very long list outside his office, Gryffindor were to face Hufflepuff in the upcoming Quidditch semi-finals…more of the same, really. She ate hungrily, not really realising that she was famished until the food appeared in front of her. Ron almost swallowed his portion of roast beef whole, and Hermione resisted the urge to kick him, hard, on the shin under the table.

But, despite being in the company of friends, housemates, and good food, her heart still longed to be with Draco again. She couldn't wait until she saw him, to make sure that he was still alive and well…and to see if he was coping. Narcissa had sent her warning to him, too. She wanted to know if he was dealing with it as badly as Hermione clearly was.

"Goodnight, you two" she told Harry and Ron as she made for the Grand West Staircase that led her to the Heads' Common Room. She smiled at them, taking two steps up the glimmering marble stairs.

"G'night, Hermione" Ron replied.

"Yeah, goodnight, Hermione" came Harry's answer. They started east, toward the curving staircase that bent northward once it reached the second floor.

She turned and made her way up the stairs. She only reached the fifth step when she wheeled back round, and raced down the steps after them.

"Wait!" she called. They turned around just as they were heading for the corner.

She caught up with them, and looked into their eyes for a moment; then she smiled, and flung her arms tightly around the two boys. Their eyes widened in alarm.

"You're really great friends, you know that" she said, her voice muffled in the two boys' robes. "I mean it. I don't deserve you two being so nice". She squeezed them tighter. They returned her embrace warmly.

"It's okay, Hermione" Harry was almost laughing "I mean _that_. It is going to be okay". Hermione nodded into Harry's chest, and then pulled away.

"I've got to wait for Draco" she said quietly. Harry and Ron nodded in understanding.

"Night" Ron said. Then they both turned and walked away. Hermione followed suit, and once again ascended the Grand Staircase that would take her, hopefully, to the love of her life and their beautiful daughter.

**_A/N: So so so so sorry for the HUGMUNGOUS delay in updates....I've been up to my eyeballs in studying and schoolwork and just haven't found the time to get a new chatper penned...until now! Hope you enjoyed it - there's more to come! Don't forget to review! Much love xx_**


	50. Full Circle

Hermione found Draco lying across the sofa, his stone grey eyes fixed on the blazing fire with an intensity that made Hermione certain that something was up. She had seen that expression on him before, and she didn't like to see him wear it.

He looked up when he heard her footsteps on the thick carpet, and immediately stood up to greet her. She flew to him, the need to be close to him almost unbearable now. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and brushed his lips against her forehead, bridge of her nose, and jaw line, making the hair on the back of Hermione's neck stand on end. His breath was soft on her face, and at last, he dragged his lips to meet hers.

She kissed him with such intensity that it was difficult to tell whether it was love or lust that drove her toward him. How long had she been waiting for his touch, to feel the warmth of his body as he pressed against her, to feel his soft lips massage hers? Too long. Two weeks was definitely too long when you were in love.

He brought her closer, one hand in her chestnut brown curls while the other drew circles on the small of her back with his fingertips. Hermione melted under his touch, just like always. She reached up to stroke his blonde hair, touch his face, anything to let him know how much she'd missed him…

He slowly turned her around and lay her on the sofa, continuing to stroke her hair, not daring to remove his lips from hers in case she might flee…not that she would, of course. But he still didn't want to chance it. He wanted this moment alone with her more than anything now.

Hermione's heart raced under her white school blouse. The kiss was becoming more urgent, more _physical_ than she remembered ever kissing him. The thought madder her heart skip two beats. She had dreamt of this. Thought about it. Wondered how it would be. What it would feel like.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to meet her. He half-lay on top of her, one hand behind her head, the other at her waist. He broke off, and moved his lips down her neck, tracing feather-light kisses on her warm skin. It felt so _right_. He loved her more than anything. He knew that this was she wanted. It was what they both wanted.

He slowed, taking his time, brushing his lips ever so softly against the hollow of her throat, the base of her neck; the exposed flesh of her collarbone…Hermione closed her eyes, her heart speeding a hundred times faster than it ever had. Were they really going to show each other what they really meant to one another tonight? It seemed almost unreal.

"I missed you" he murmured against her skin. His breath made her tingle all over. She pulled him closer, and she shifted her hips beneath him, desire building slowly inside her very being, her soul aching for this.

"I missed you too" she breathed longingly. It was true. She had missed him so much over the two-week holiday period that she found it hard to sleep at night without his warm body next to her. Not that they had ever _done_ anything…until now.

Hermione's breath caught as he resumed kissing her, moving back up to her lips, where she responded with as much desire as he was. It wasn't rough, or forced; it felt absolutely perfect. They would take their time, not worrying about rushing into it, to make this _meaningful_, something special, not just a one-time thing…Hermione let her hand stray down his back, her fingers brushing the defined muscles there through his clothes. She felt him arch slightly at her touch; Hermione became hot all over.

"I forgot to ask" she whispered in his ear "how's Anielle?" He took a minute to answer.

"She's perfect" was his reply. "I put her to sleep a few hours ago. She should be out for a while" Hermione nodded against him. The hand that had been at her waist moved upwards, and Hermione shivered hotly when she realised what he was probably going to do. But she didn't restrain him. Their lips never left each others' as she moved her hands to his strong shoulders.

He moved until he was lying on top of her, spreading his weight so that she wouldn't be buried into the sofa. Slowly, he reached up, and with his right hand deftly unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, exposing more of her cream flesh. He bent his head to place a feathery kiss there.

Hermione gently drew patterns on the small of his back, tracing nothing on his covered skin. He breathed heavily, his breath tickling the newly exposed skin through her blouse. Then, as deftly as he had the first, he undid the second button. Hermione shivered, but not from cold. From desire. The strap of her lacy bra was now visible under her blouse.

She twisted her fingers in his blonde hair, bringing him down to meet her lips again and again. She shifted her position slightly; her legs were wrapped loosely around his. Her skin grew warm with such intimacy of their current situation. If Harry or Ron were to walk in now…she would probably die of shame. She breathed a moan, ever so quietly, as Draco brushed against her ample chest. She instinctively moved her hips, ever so slightly, against his own. It was his turn to breathe his longing.

He bent down and, carefully, undid the next two buttons of her blouse. The cool air against her skin only heightened her desire; her open clothes only mirrored the intimacy of their current position. The gentle swell of her breasts was visible; Draco inclined his head and lightly kissed the shallow valley between them, causing Hermione to shiver and convulse in pleasure in his arms. Her parted lips gave way to another breathy moan. How could she not want this?

Draco moved down her body until he reached the waistband of her skirt. Hermione drew breath, almost a gasp. His lips brushed against the exposed skin above the waistband. Carefully and slowly, he hooked one finger onto the waist of the skirt and pulled it down half a centimetre, exposing her shapely hipbones. Hermione gasped again, adrenaline surging through her bones. And then, he stopped what he was doing, and looked up to meet her desire-fuelled gaze.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he whispered hoarsely; the desire was clear in his voice, too. Hermione nodded.

"Absolutely" she replied. "I love you, Draco, you know that. I love you so much" her voice was barely a whisper also. He moved back up to her lips, and kissed her swiftly before turning his head and whispering, almost seductive, in her ear.

"Your room or mine?" Hermione smiled.

"Mine, I think. We don't want to wake Anielle" came her passion-filled response.

"You're right, as always" he said. And then, he moved away, his lips lingering on hers for a moment. Hermione moaned at the loss of contact. She looked so innocent, so _virginal_, lying there with her dark curls spread out on the arm of the sofa behind her, her legs bent, knees together…apart from the undone blouse and the skirt that was too low on her hips. He had never wanted her more than at this very moment.

He picked her up, bridal-style in his strong arms, the contact between them rekindled. Hermione smiled. This really was it. So long she had waited for this…dreamt of it….wondered about it. And now it was really happening.

In one quick stride, he manoeuvred around the sofa, and made for the stairs. He took his time, almost painfully slowly, as not to waste any precious moment with her by rushing into it. Reaching out with one hand, he pulled open the door to Hermione's room. He smiled at her. Hermione's heart melted. She nodded to show that she was ready.

He took her to the bed, and pushed her down onto the pillows. He followed after her; carefully, he slowly unbuttoned her blouse all the way down the bottom. Hermione arched in his arms. And then he bent down to kiss her, and the two picked up where they had left off on the sofa just moments before.

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The pair were absolutely silent as they lay side by side, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. Their breathing was slightly laboured, still on a high from what had just passed between them. Hermione moved closer to Draco, who responded by pulling her nearer to him. The warmth of his bare skin made goose bumps erupt on Hermione's own. She smiled into his alabaster chest as she remembered what had just happened.

She opened her eyes to find a pair of deep grey orbs staring back at her lovingly. She gave him a quick kiss on his lips, and he smiled. His fingers were in her hair, playing with the long, chestnut curls. He continued to stare at his girlfriend for a long time. He didn't say anything, and neither did she. Neither of them needed to. The last hour had been perfect beyond imagination. Neither of them wanted to break the spell so quickly.

Moonlight came in through the un-curtained windows, telling them that it was late at night. Hermione looked over Draco's shoulder at the clock on her beside table. Quarter to ten. Had it really been that long? She blushed as she remembered. The heat between her thighs was burning in the aftermath of their actions. But neither showed any remorse for what had happened.

Draco pulled himself up onto his elbow, and he interlaced the fingers of his left hand with Hermione's own left hand. Their clothes lay forgotten on the carpet. Only the deep crimson quilt covered them now.

After a while, Hermione spoke.

"That" she said "was…everything I've ever dreamed of. And more" she spoke honestly, from the heart.

"My feelings exactly" Draco replied. Then it was silent again. An owl hooted faintly in the blackness outside the window, from somewhere deep inside the forest. Hermione sighed a breath.

Suddenly, Anielle started to wail in the other room, wanting her late-night bottle. Hermione and Draco both laughed at her typical, cliché timing. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'll go and see to her, darling" she whispered, and then rolled over to reach for her dressing gown, which lay over the back of a chair against the wall.

Before she went, though, Draco reached for his wand – which was lying on the bedside table – and cast a quick charm on the lower half of Hermione's abdomen. She looked at him, slightly confused.

"Contraceptive charm" he explained softly. "Can't really take the risk of having more children when we've already got one who's in danger" Hermione smiled.

She sat up, and quickly slipped on the dressing gown, pulling the belt around her middle. Draco fell back onto the pillows, sighing. He was probably going to fall asleep any minute. Hermione didn't mind. She would join him once she had Anielle fed.

Hermione left the room and went to see to Anielle, her bare feet pattering on the floorboards of the short hallways between both rooms. The memories of recent incidents replayed themselves in her head. Hermione was burning with passion and contentment. She had never felt so exhilarated, so loved, in all her life until then.

She pushed open the door and went over to the cot. Anielle's wailing was louder here, of course; she gently picked up her daughter and held her close.

"Shh, sweetheart, mummy's here now" she crooned softly into one dainty pink ear. Her little fists gripped Hermione's dressing gown, her soft blonde hair tickling her chin. "That's it, shh now" she rubbed her back gently. "I'll get your bottle, and you can be nice and full. Okay?" she whispered to her. Anielle was still crying, but not as loudly.

She went down to the main living room, filled the kettle and got Anielle's bottle from the sideboard. She put the tin of baby formula in the nearby microwave for two minutes. All the while, she was whispering to her daughter, telling her stories, about the wizarding world and Hogwarts and the life that they had with her. She told her about her daddy, and her grandma and her mummy's friends, Harry and Ron. Anielle listened – or rather, Hermione thought she was listening – to every word she said. She had stopped crying by now, and was staring anxiously at the bottle on the sideboard.

"Yes, you'll have your milk soon" Hermione whispered. "Just a few more minutes". The microwave pinged just moments later, and Hermione took the tin out. She flipped open the top of the kettle and poured the cold water into a plastic jug. With practiced movements, she twisted open the tin of hot formula milk and poured it carefully into the bottle, screwing the lid on tight; all one-handed, with Anielle on her hip. Being a mother made things like this second nature.

There was no sound from Draco's room at all. Perhaps he _had_ fallen asleep. It was later, after all. Anielle yawned, very softly, into her mother's shoulder. Hermione smiled. She knew that the little darling would fall asleep before she finished the bottle, but not to worry. That's just what babies did.

As she took Anielle over to the chair and sat down, she thought of Draco. And what she had just done with him. How natural, how wonderful it had felt when he had moved inside her with expert movement, passion clear in his eyes, yet she knew – from one of their more private conversations – that this had been his first time too. And he hadn't disappointed her. She blushed as she recalled the memory.

Hermione walked over to one of the deep leather armchairs and sat down comfortably, supporting Anielle carefully with both hands. She put the teat of the bottle to her lips; her daughter immediately took the bottle herself in her two small fists and sucked happily. Within seconds, only three quarters of the bottle was left. She must have been hungry. Hermione stroked her soft blonde hair as she drank contentedly.

How could she have ever lived without either of them in her life? Up until now, she had revolved endlessly around books, thrown herself into her schoolwork, feasted so hungrily on knowledge and learning and wanting to do well that she had never had any time for anything else. It was probably one of the reasons why she had never understood Quidditch, even though her two best friends and her boyfriend all played the wizarding sport.

But now, things were different. She had a very clear image of what she wanted to live for. One of those things was feeding silently, eyelids drooping, in her arms right now. Anielle. Her daughter. And also the child of one of the people she loved the most in this world, and the Muggle world. Any world, in fact.

Funny, wasn't it, that things always seemed to come together, even if the situation underneath was terrifying? Full circle.

**_A/N: God, two chapters in a day! No wonder I've been busy. Anyway, here was chapter 50....are you getting tired of the story yet? Wait, no, don't answer that...! How did I do? It was my first try at anything remotely sexually intimate so please tell me if it was convincing. I would like to know these things, so that I can make this story a better read for everyone. Don't forget to drop a review by and tell me what you think of this chappie...and wait patiently (ish) for the next installment! Much love xx_**


	51. A Change of Action

Hermione was on a high. After that night that she had finally consummated her relationship with Draco, it was like she was seeing things in a different light. She tried to stop working as much; instead, she made more time to spend with Draco and Anielle, not wanting to waste a single moment, not if what Narcissa had told them was true. They never really spoke of the warning she had given them, but the understanding of each other was clear in their eyes. No words were needed to explain the obvious fear they both felt. It was not something they could really talk about, given the severity of their situation.

Anielle was growing fast. Her soft blonde hair now reached just under her arms, poker straight and smoother than silk to the touch. Neither Draco nor Hermione could bear to cut their daughter's hair. Her teal eyes, full of wonder, would watch them in awe as they moved about their daily business. After they returned from the day's lessons, Madame Pomfrey would hand her over to them and she would be smiling, reaching toward them with small, eager hands. Hermione was happy; they were all happy. It was no use dwelling on the things that would only bring them down. It was best to stay focused on the positive, and seek underlying help for the negative, without stopping them from being happy in the first place.

Even Harry and Ron had noticed a change in Hermione. There was a permanent flush to her ivory cheeks; her chestnut curls bounced with a flourish when she moved. It may or may not have had something or everything to do with _that_ night. The vivid memories of it brought dark colour to her cheeks, made her grin to herself over a book she was reading. The two boys seemed shocked that she wasn't spending so much time in the library alone; she preferred now to rake her books out, and go up the Common Room to work alongside Draco at the polished mahogany table, Anielle on her lap, craning her slender porcelain neck to look at what her parents were doing.

It was the perfect picture. Two smiling, happy parents; one beautiful, beloved daughter.

But it couldn't ever really last. For Voldermort was planning, and planning quickly.

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The oil lamps lit in the heavy torch brackets on the walls flickered slightly as a tall, cloaked man paced back and forth in front of them. The walls, a peeling grey, were murky and foreboding. An enormous, majestic chandelier hung from the dirty cream ceiling, thick with dust, and shaking slightly in the concentration that radiated from the man who was so clearly deep in thought.

"We must be silent, undetected…no one must see us" came a high, clear voice from the pacing man – or creature. He stopped for a moment. "But _how_, Alecto? _How?_ We cannot risk being caught inside the castle walls again. I do not want to risk my exposure twice" his voice was hard with obvious frustration. He turned to face whoever was called Alecto. From under a dark, heavy hood, a pair of snakelike crimson eyes glinted in the lamplight. The eyes of Lord Voldermort.

A short, plump woman, also cloaked and hooded, spoke in a raspy yet eager voice. "Perhaps we should attack…when all them pathetic students are fast asleep in their _comfortable_ little beds" she giggled. "We don't want to harm anyone unnecessarily, now. We only want the boy…or the girl, whichever we find first. I'm not fussy who I torture" then she added. "Master".

Lord Voldermort contemplated this for a minute, examining his long white fingers. "Hmmm" he deliberated. "Perhaps you are right, Alecto. A night attack certainly would be the easiest…and unexpected, too. It is an idea I should think about, definitely. Well done, Alecto. You have proved, after all, that you _are_ worthy enough of my, shall we say…_kindness_ to let you resume your service to me" Lord Voldermort laughed softly, but without humour. He turned, and began pacing again.

"But _how?_ It still does not answer my question!" he suddenly spat in a storm of frustration. He couldn't think! Of course, it was easy to think of a way _into_ the castle that had once been his home, but _how_ to get in that way, that was the question! Should he attack with the Death Eaters, or alone? But there didn't seem a plausible reason for him to have company…he had to do this alone, to take the wretched boy from his precious, _precious_ Mudblood…and then he would kill him. Just like his father. And, when he was finished with her, his mother too.

Alecto Carrow spoke again. "My Lord, master, perhaps…how about an accomplice? Nothing large, though, no no…that might drive those stupid lovey-dovey parents to attack if they think there is more of a threat. But…if there was just one? A watchman? To keep an eye on things, per se…should complications arise. You saw the boy the first time. Whose to say he won't try to attack us again?" there was no mistaking the heavy hint in her voice.

Lord Voldermort was quick to scale up Alecto's suggestion.

"_You, _Alecto? You wish to join me?" he said with speculation. "It is plausible, certainly. But are you suggesting that I simply…cannot take care of myself against a pair of poor, _defenceless _teenagers?" he turned to face her once more, crimson eyes bright. His face was ashen, almost waxy, in the shadow from the lamplight.

"No, master, of course not, master. My Lord, I was only saying…that if you were to have an accomplice, things might run a little more smoothly, master" Alecto responded. "I could incapacitate them if you wanted, make it easier for the transportation to made" she wave her hand around the murky room. "Or do you really wish to bring whoever you catch to our _special_ hiding place alive, when they could try and escape?" she cocked her head to the side.

Lord Voldermort thought about this. Indeed, what Alecto had explained had made sense. He shouldn't really risk the chance of a live kidnap victim trying to escape. He could need a little assistance…he cringed at the word. He had never needed _assistance_ all his life. No. He simply needed…another pair of eyes to keep a watch on the situation. Yes. That was it. Another pair of eyes, another wand, to keep everything in order. To see his plan through. He turned, stopping his pacing, and strode forward to meet Alecto's cold gaze.

"Well, you seem to have persuaded me, Alecto. You have done well tonight. Give me your arm" he held out his long-fingered white hand. Obediently, Alecto pulled back the left sleeve of her robes to reveal the black tattoo of the Dark Mark branded into the pale skin of her arm. He took her wrist firmly and pulled it forward.

"We must gather our old friends…tell them of what we strive to accomplish. The more, merrier!" he smiled evilly, lipless mouth curling into a sneer of coming triumph. He took his wand form beneath his robes. The light fell on the bone-white of the twisted wood as he brought it to Alecto's arm.

Then he pressed the tip of the wand to the black, skull-and-snake tattoo on her arm. A thunderclap sounded. They were coming.

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It was raining again. Heavy droplets of water streaked down the big lattice window in the Heads Common Room. The fire flickered softly in the giant fireplace, shadows dancing low across the ivory walls.

Draco stood with his back to the door, watching the raindrops chase each other down the glass. Anielle was fast asleep on his hip; she curled into the hollow of his neck, her breathing steady and even. She had been like that for the last ten minutes.

So many things were worrying him. Everything…and yet nothing. He remembered his mother's warning, how sick he had felt when he read the words which she had written to him. _In his mind, the only thing standing in the way of him taking your daughter is the knowledge that there are two of you. He believes that, if he were to destroy one of you, then the other will be weaker alone than you are as a couple. This means, of course, that he believes that through killing one of you, the other won't be as much of a defence for Anielle and in turn, not as much of a threat to him. _

He swallowed, hard. Anielle stirred lightly in her sleep, and the sudden movement made him jump. He tightened his hold on her, reaching up to stroke her blonde hair. She looked so peaceful; long eyelashes spreading from her closed lids, her pink lips curved into a slight smile on her porcelain face. Her cheeks were rosy, a warm pink blush. He couldn't even imagine what it would be like if he lost her. Or Hermione. Definitely not Hermione.

The door of the Common Room opened, and Hermione stepped through. Her school satchel, heavy with numerous large tomes, swung from her shoulder and slipped to the floor. She spotted Draco standing by the rain-spattered window almost immediately. She could tell that he was thinking about something. Something that upset him.

"Draco?" she called quietly, starting a few paces toward him. He turned, and smiled gently when he saw her. But his smile didn't quite reach his eyes; they remained dark, troubled. Hermione was right, then. Something was bothering him, and she could take a fair guess as to what that was – because it was bothering her too.

He turned back to face the window without a word. He looked so sad. It ate away at her very soul that he should feel like this. He wasn't alone. He had her, and Anielle. _Though not for long_ her mind told her. _Not if Voldermort gets his way, and finds you. Not if he takes one of you…kills one of you, leaves the other alone…takes Anielle, and raises her to be just like his followers. Death Eaters_.

"No!" she squeaked, shaking her head fiercely to get rid of the idea. In her mind's eye, she saw Anielle, not baby any more, but grown up. But she couldn't see her face. It was under a dark, heavy hood. She was flanked on either side by two others, also cloaked and hooded. And in the middle was another man, taller than the others, and swathed in a darker, more expensive fabric. The man tilted his head backward, and a pair of burning crimson eyes stared back at her.

"No!" she squeaked again. Her shoulders were shaking, her stomach feeling like there were stones at the bottom of it. Quivering from fear and emotion, she crossed the room in six shaky strides. All the previous pink, flushed colour had drained from her face. Her eyes were blank as she let the scene which she had imagined sink in.

She slipped her arms around Draco's waist, and held on tight. She reached to stroke Anielle's hair, felling how soft it was under her fingers. She was so beautiful. So wonderful. And so totally, completely _hers_.

_Not if Voldermort gets his way._

She grasped his waist tighter, and he took her trembling hand in his own. Hermione leaned her forehead against his shoulder, lower lip trembling. She fought back the tears that pricked her conker brown eyes. She squeezed tighter.

"I don't want you to die" she choked, her voice a whisper, barely more audible than a flutter of autumn leaves. A lump rose in her throat, and a single tear found its way down her cheek. She made no effort to wipe it away.

For a minute or so, no one said anything. Only Anielle's steady breathing could be heard. The fire flames still flickered softly, but slowly dying out. Hermione's school satchel slipped down the table leg half a centimetre or so, leaning slightly to the right. The rain continued to pour down the window. Then Draco spoke.

"I don't want you to die, either" he said. "But it looks like I don't really have a choice"

That was it. Hermione, overcome with her fear, started howling against his shoulder, tears streaming down her face. Don't have a choice…he was going to let her die? Did he really think that they stood no chance at all in this?

He knew they weren't going to win.

Then he spoke again.

"Because if you die, I die too"

This time, his voice wasn't as composed. It shook and wavered in strange places, and Hermione picked up these signs.

It was the voice of someone in pain.

The windows weren't the only things that were crying.

**_A/N: Another chapter up and running! Yay! I really need to get ahead with this....I'm hoping to get it finished by around March-April, so I'll see how it goes. But don't worry! This is not the end. In fact, it is far from it. I will say no more. Anyway, hope you liked this chap, I'll try and get the next one up real soon, and Happy Holidays everybody! Oh, and don't forget to review, of course! It's no good if your feelings about this story go unsaid! Merry Xmas FanFictioners! xxx_**


	52. With Love Comes Power

Hermione had changed again.

She was no longer the happier, bouncier person she had been a week ago. That had gone out of the window. As had all hopes and dreams for their future. The reality was staring them in face, provocative, ever present, eating away at them twenty-four hours a day. When their hearts beat, they beat in pain. When they breathed, they knew they were one breath closer to their fate.

The fear of each losing the other was unbearable. The fear of each losing Anielle was even worse.

Hermione kept breaking into tears at the strangest moments. During breakfast, during free period, when she was doing her homework, in the grounds…it was as if she was a leaky tap that couldn't be fixed. The tears kept coming. She couldn't help herself. She was just frightened.

She cried at night, too. It was these nights that Draco went to her, and brought her into his own bed so that she wouldn't be alone. He hated seeing her in pain; but she was only acting on what he too felt himself. Pain, fear, and worry.

Tonight was one of those nights. Hermione had been crying silently in her room since going to bed an hour ago, and Draco had brought her to his own bed so that she would have someone to lie next to. He hated her being alone, especially at times like these. The tears had stopped now, and she was curled against his chest, breathing softly though still wide awake.

He held her closer still, brown curls brushing his alabaster skin. Her warm arms, wrapped tightly around his waist, were an invitation to be close to each other. It was all they could do. Looking over toward the cot, he saw that Anielle was fast asleep, blonde hair fanned out across the pillow.

"Is she okay?" Hermione whispered.

"Yes, of course she is. She's fast asleep" came Draco's reply. Hermione nodded, snuggling closer to him. He gently stroked the exposed skin of her hip with her fingertip, tracing circles on the ivory skin. It always seemed to comfort her, somehow.

Nothing more was said for a few minutes. They were each immersed in their own thoughts, their breathing steady yet their hearts accelerated in pace. It wasn't just the worry that caused that to happen. Hermione was very aware of Draco's warm body pressed against hers, and he hers. It was soothing, having him so close to her. But yet flamed a desire in her that wanted to be fulfilled. Lord Voldermort could attack at any moment. Any moment at all. That was what scared them the most. The unexpectedness of the impending ambush. They knew, finally, that they weren't going to win. Never. And the previous week, what Draco had said raised a terrible truth in Hermione.

Draco was willing to give himself up for death to save her.

When she had realised this, she had panicked, and pleaded with him, tearfully, to not go through with it. Many a night had she tried to convince him not to leaver her like that. Not to sacrifice himself for him. He said he would rather have him be the one to die than know she would be killed whilst in terrible pain. He wouldn't have that happen to her.

Hermione argued that she had almost lost him once, and she wasn't about to take that risk again.

He said he would be happy to do so than have her die in pain.

She had said, in a fit of tears, that she would rather they die as a family than have one of them ripped away so cruelly. This had shut Draco up quite efficiently.

They were each losing their own battles – against each other.

Hermione moaned softly in grief against his chest. Draco knew what was on her mind, but didn't dare voice it in case he upset her again. He didn't want that. Not now, not ever. That was why he had made his suggestion in the first place. To die himself rather than watch her die in pain before him. But obviously, Hermione didn't think of it the way he did. She wanted them to stay together, all three of them. Win together, or lose together. Whichever came first.

"It's okay" he soothed her, stroking her waist gently. "No one's going to hurt you while you're with me" he pulled out all the stops to keep his voice level. Hermione moaned again, more quietly this time. He pulled her close to him, the warmth of her body a comfort to his own fear.

"What are we going to do?" Hermione said frightened gasps. The words echoed into the quietness of the room. Anielle never stirred from her sleep, just simply kept dreaming on about whatever it was she was dreaming of. Happy things, Draco hoped. Not nightmares.

"The only thing we can do" came his reply some few seconds later. This time, his fear broke through his voice; he knew he didn't have to disguise it in front of Hermione now. "We'll just have to wait…and then, I don't know" he admitted sadly. _For someone who always used to have an answer for everything_ Hermione thought _it proves how scared he must really be_. Hermione deliberated this. Was Draco even more scared than she was herself? It didn't seem like him to be so vulnerable like this. It hurt her to think of it like that.

Hermione closed her eyes, and then opened them again after a few moments. Her breathing was heavy, calm though somehow laboured. Draco barely seemed to be breathing at all. His breath was a faint whisper in the air; Hermione had to listen ever so closely as to even begin to hear it.

Each heartbeat was torturous, each breath an immense task. They could hardly speak to each other about their true emotions without each breaking down in front of the other. They had proved that enough just one week ago. The night the April showers began over Hogwarts. The night the rain began to pour.

Were the communications between them breaking down, too? Was the bond that they had starting to break at the edges? Was that what was really happening? It would explain why each felt so alone even though they were so close to each other; physically, mentally, it didn't matter.

And then, Draco spoke again, and Hermione was stunned to hear a harder, more determined tone in his voice.

"We will survive this" he reassured her, a new spark of unspoken hope pronounced in the way he spoke. "I promise you that, if I can't promise you anything else. We'll get through this, you, me and Anielle. I'll make sure of it" and then his voice softened "Because I'm not going to let him take away either of you"

He sounded so convincing, so believable, that Hermione knew he was speaking the truth. A smile almost broke on her lips as she registered that same determination in her own mind as it appeared in Draco's words. They _were_ going to survive this. Lord Voldermort wasn't going to get the upper hand. Their love was stronger than any spell any of his Death Eaters could cast on them. Stronger even than the Avada Kedavra.

Only if hell froze over twice would they let any such abomination as the Death Eaters lay their dark hands on their beautiful baby girl.

But the fear was still there, of course. Such a feeling would never fully disappear, even if their determination was at its strongest. But, it could be suppressed a little. For now.

For with love, came the power to do anything in the world that you wanted to.

**_A/N: Well, well, well, another chapter up! I must be getting better with these updates...anything to please my fans! You are awesome, guys. I'm so glad so many people like this fic! Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chappie, and keep your eyes peeled for the next installment which should be up quite soon! Don't forget to review now! Much love xxx_**


	53. No Time To Waste

For endless days and even longer nights, sheets of icy rain were thrown down over the castle. The howling wind that had pitched up mid-week hadn't helped either; it only continued to help the explosive rain by whipping the droplets of water faster and harder against the glass of the windows, the stone walls, beating like constant punches in a one-sided fight. It kept the students up at night; many of them looked pale and restless at breakfast times.

Hermione and Draco, however, didn't care much for the impact of the storm. It didn't keep them up at night; the sound, for them, was almost soothing against the fierce worry and irrepressible fear that whirred in their minds constantly. It drowned those feelings out. It gave them that little bit more confidence that they needed. And they definitely needed it.

Draco had spent most of his time in the past few days with his nose stuck in various volumes on defence against the dark arts, looking up countless hexes, jinxes, curses and enchantments that could be used to their advantage. At first, Hermione just thought he was actually trying to pay attention in classes for once, even though his grades almost always came out on top. But as time went by, she began to realise the real reason for his constant scavenging in the library.

He was going to try and fight. Fight against Voldermort and his Death Eaters.

The very thought sent chills down Hermione's spine. She didn't want him to fight. It was too dangerous. She knew it was. But he still remained determined not to give up that easily. Not to let his guard down. Because he had done that before, and it could have easily cost him his life; the consequence that rested on Hermione's shoulders if he should make one little mistake now.

But she still didn't want him to put himself at risk just to keep her safe. She didn't want him to do that. It would be like asking her parents to die just so she could inherit their money and their house. A selfish act. Letting him die just so she could live.

That led Hermione to her second realisation; and although it was, for the most part, a good way of looking at it – in a slightly sickening way – she still didn't want to acknowledge the possibility of it. Draco thought that, if one of them gave up their life willingly – volunteered to die, so that Voldermort wouldn't have to go to such extreme lengths to kill – then he might let whichever of them lived free to keep their daughter and live a happy life. Not that their lives would be anything but excruciatingly painful without the other.

It was one theory they could use. But not one they really wanted to succumb to.

----------------------------------------------------

"I think you should go out and get some fresh air" Ginny swung her curtain of wine red hair over one slim shoulder and stared at Hermione with concerned eyes. "You need to get _out_, Hermione. Take a break from all this" she waved her hand toward her friend.

"It's pouring with rain, Ginny" was Hermione's tired, monotone reply. Her fear was now eating its way into her voice, too.

"Then take an umbrella, or a coat, or do a spell" Ginny said offhandedly. "You're a brilliant witch – you'll think of something" Ginny smiled. The compliment helped Hermione a little – made her feel slightly better. But only for a fleeting second. Then the fear returned.

"I don't think I should, Ginny" she said, dropping her voice so that no one could possibly hear over the roar of the rain and the babble of students huddled in from the storm in the library. "Anielle needs me now, and so does Draco" she sighed. "I think he's trying to plan some sort of attack". Ginny's eyes grew wide.

"Is he crazy?" Ginny gasped. "You'll both be skinned alive if he tries to fight back now!" she could barely contain her horror. Hermione nodded slowly, her eyes desolate and blank. The dark fire of despair burned in her chocolate brown irises.

"I know, Ginny" she said quietly. "And the worst thing is, he's doing this for _me_" she swallowed the hard lump that had suddenly risen in her throat. "He's going to get himself killed to protect me" Tears stung her eyes, and she wiped them away fiercely with the sleeve of her robes. She didn't want the other students to see her crying now. Not here, anyway. Ginny reached out to place a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"If it bothers you this much, just tell him you don't want him to put himself in danger for you" she said, calmly as possible as to not upset Hermione again.

"I already have" Hermione replied. Her voice shook. "He won't listen. He said he'd take care of everything" her bottom lip trembled. "I'm so scared, Ginny" she choked on her words. "I don't want to lose him like this". A rogue tear snaked down her cheek.

Ginny patted her shoulder tenderly. "Try not to upset yourself too much, Hermione. It'll only make it worse, and you don't want that" she pursed her coral lips. Hermione wiped away the stray tear with her sleeve. She nodded.

"Okay" Hermione said. She gazed out of the window, at the slanting sheets of rain bearing down in the dank, dreary grounds. She couldn't even make out the giant golden hoops on the Quidditch pitch in the murky gloom. It was so dark already, and it was only mid-afternoon. "I'll try not to think about too much. You're right, it will make it worse" she gave a small, weak smile, which Ginny returned.

Hermione checked her watch. "I'd better make a start on my Charms essay, while I've got some time left" she placed her bag on the table, rummaged around for a quill and ink. She pulled a heavy volume on advanced charm casting toward her from the pile on the other side of the table.

"You'll be alright here on your own? Only I've got to see Professor McGonagall about my homework" Ginny said. Hermione nodded. Ginny smiled widely at her friend. "Try not to worry too much" she added, before she scooped up her bag and left the library. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Madam Pince have a go at a knot of fifth-year Ravenclaws for talking too loudly.

She bent over her essay, all set to write as much as she could about the properties and advantages of using concealment charms against the advantages of concealment by Transfiguration – a crossover task between the two subjects which would be assessed at NEWT level. But she had only written five words before the salty tears splashed onto the ivory parchment in front of her.

Following Ginny's advice was going to difficult.

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The omnipresent rain over Hogwarts reminded Hermione of her and Draco. Living under a dark cloud in the form of the darkest, most evil wizard known to their kind. The rain was the fear he exerted over them, constantly, never letting up his game. It also reminded Hermione of an over-determined boxer. Fighting to knock out his opponent, even though he was a lot stronger than the one doing the punching. Voldermort was the attacker; they were the resistant opponent who was unwilling to be floored so quickly into the fight.

Only Hermione was too scared to join Draco in his clear-sighted determination. She savoured ever minute that they were together, committing each moment to memory, lingering on the details; the feel of his lips on hers, his warm body pressed against hers, how it felt to feel his breath on her exposed skin…She didn't want to waste the time they had so little of left, now.

It was dark outside, the clouds clustered in an angry group of purple.

Lying next to him on the black leather sofa in front of the burning fire, Hermione had time to think about all of this. Cram the entire surrealist view of it into her head, and still have room to try and figure it all out. Because it all seemed far too horrifying to even possibly be just the slightest bit real.

Neither exchanged any words. The fire burned low in the grate of the fireplace, its warmth radiating from the orange flames. The rain continued to streak down the large lattice window, the droplets bullet hard and so _loud_ as they hit the glass of the window. Quite a few times, the impact noise of the rain made Hermione jump. Each time, Draco wrapped his arms around her small frame even tighter, holding her as close to his chest as he could. His free hand was in her hair, playing with the chestnut curls absent-mindedly. Every so often, his fingertips would lightly brush the sensitive skin of her neck, making her body tingle with sudden electric desire.

That was one more thing that was made stronger in the light of the fear they both lost sleep over. Their closeness had become a lot more physical; their kisses more urgent, more _readiness_ in the way they moved against each other. Telling each other that there was no time to waste.

Hermione wriggled in her position, and twisted round to wrap her arms around Draco's waist. Teal-grey orbs met her chocolate brown gaze with an intensity that only a besotted lover could harbour. She closed her eyed, and rested her forehead against his muscled chest. He stopped playing with her hair to rest his pale hand on her waist, gently caressing her wide hips through her clothes. The intimacy of the gesture made her ivory sweater suddenly too warm; her skin flushed pink, and she bowed her head further to his chest so that he wouldn't see the flaming sexual desire in her eyes.

Not that he needed to look at her eyes to know what she wanted. The hand at her waist moved to pull her chin up so her eyes met his, and then he kissed her hungrily, a low moan in his throat as he shifted to a better position. Hermione was all too glad to respond. She wound her arms around his neck, and he slowly started placing feathery kisses down her milky throat towards her collarbone, where he dragged his lips over her already tingling skin with teasingly slow speed. Hermione felt familiar liquid warmth flush between her legs at his tantalizing touch. It wasn't the first time they had been in this position.

He lifted her sweater up slightly to trace a circle around her navel, making her shudder in sudden pleasure. Her back arched as she moved to kiss him again, her tongue gently running over his full bottom lip. She twisted her fingers in his silky blonde hair, pulling him closer.

The desire was uncontrollable. As they moved, they were only slightly conscious of their clothes parting company with their hot skin. It was the desire to be close to each other that fuelled them forward, wanting to savour their time with the other in every way possible. Physical love was the only way they could truly show their emotions, their fear, their worry, everything they felt, without breaking down into tears from the overwhelming, omnipresent dark cloud that hung over them.

They needed no words as their bodies tangled together into one on the sofa. Something soft and warm was spread under their entwined bodies; Draco had conjured a blanket underneath them. Every movement, they savoured with as much prolonged happiness as they could. Every kiss, every touch was gladly accepted. It was the only way they could even begin to express the bone-deep love they had for each other without upsetting themselves, and each other.

There was just no time to waste anymore. They couldn't waste a single minute to themselves, just them, to be together. Because, one way or another, one or both of them was going to leave this world forever. Soon.

And until then, they had to savour every moment they had with each other. There was just no time to waste.

**_A/N: Another chapter to feed your anxious minds! The next chapter will skip ahead to the last week of April-first week of June, as their 7th year draws to a close and their NEWT examinations begin. Lord Voldermort still hasn't launched his attack, and our favourite lovers are becoming more fragile as a couple and as individuals as the fear and the waiting gets the better of them....I'm not saying any more, you'll have to wait until the next chapter! Don't forget to review, and keep on reading! Much love xx_**

**_PS. Oh, and there is a surprise to be had at the end of the next chapter...an exclusive extract from the second story in the trilogy and a virtual present to anyone who guesses what that surprise might be! If your close, you'll even get a special mention in the author's note at the end of the chapter. _**

**_And another thing; I was thinking of calling this trilogy Family Ties. What do you think? If you think its a lame title, kindly post your suggestions in a PM or review...thankyou!!!_**

**_HPfangirl4life x_**


	54. Repairing What Was Lost

It was getting harder and harder to be themselves as the weeks dragged on.

Hermione and Draco no longer spent so much time with each other; instead, they became further and further apart, barely speaking unless they were trying to decide whose turn it was to get up in the night to feed Anielle. Even those conversations turned into heated arguments:-

"I fed her last night, it's your turn!"

"I'm _busy, Hermione!_ Can't you see that?"

"You're always busy! You never have time for me anymore!"

"You can talk; you just shut yourself in your room all day with your head in a book. At least I'm _trying_ to do something about our situation!"

"Draco! You are _not going to risk getting killed because of me, do you understand? _I won't let you fight him!"

"I'm trying to protect you!"

"By ignoring me?"

It was at times like these that they both wished they would die. They hated arguing, though they also hated admitting that one of them was right and the other was wrong. Hermione _knew_ Draco was trying to protect her. He _knew_ Hermione was frightened for him. It didn't stop the fights, though. Hermione started sleeping in her own bed again, excluding Draco completely. Whatever effort he made to put things right, she batted him away fiercely. She didn't need his apologies.

She just wanted to feel safe again.

Under the heavy burden of revision for their NEWT examinations, their fear had reached its peak. Neither could sit still for more than a few mere minutes; neither dared look toward the window of the Common Room for fear of seeing the scarlet eyes of Lord Voldermort staring back at them. They jumped at the slightest sound; the creak of a floorboard, the ruffling pages of a book, the scratching of a quill.

They were both waiting for their impending death.

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The evening before their exams were due to begin, Hermione was sitting hunched over the table spread with pages and pages of revision notes; she stared at her own handwriting without a clue as to what information they held, trying desperately to remember the principals of concealment Transfiguration or the correct way of brewing Amortentia. Her heart wasn't in it, however. In fact, it was with someone else entirely.

Tonight had been bad.

Hermione had returned from the library to find Draco sitting in front of the fire with silent tears streaming down his face. Instinctively, she all but leapt the short distance from the door to the sofa where he sat. She hated seeing him upset. She had only seen him cry once; it had broken her heart.

"Draco?" she'd said softly. He didn't even turn to look at her. "Draco, what's wrong?" She placed her hand on his arm. Still he did not answer.

"Talk to me, Draco" Hermione pleaded. "Tell me what's wrong"

Then, he had snapped entirely.

"What's wrong? You want me to tell you_ what's wrong? _Well, if you haven't caught on yet Hermione, there is an extremely Dark wizard after our daughter, he wants to _kill us to get to her_, my mother is being tortured trying to help us even though it's no use because we're both going to die anyway, and I can't do anything about it because _you won't let me even try!"_ he'd yelled at her.

He hadn't even noticed he had risen to his feet in his anger, his fists clenched. Hermione cowered away from his sudden outburst, her eyes wide. He had never shouted at her like that before.

He'd stared at her for a long time, his breathing heavy. Then he had turned on his heel and marched up his room, slamming the door as he went. Luckily, Anielle did not wake, but stayed sleeping as Hermione had left her an hour ago.

Shaking, she'd slumped onto the sofa with her head in her hands and started to cry, doing nothing to control herself. If he heard, then so be it. He'd never been angry with her like that before. She'd only been trying to help.

Now, she was alone, and still Draco had not emerged from his room after storming off. That was two hours ago. Thousands of stars now littered the navy ink sky, though grey clouds welled in the distance.

Hermione clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to keep her breathing even. She wanted more than anything to go up to his room, throw her arms around him and tell him how sorry she was for initiating his anger. But she had her first exams tomorrow and needed to revise for them.

_What's more important?_ A voice spoke inside her mind. _Doing well in your exams, or being there for Draco?_ Hermione breathed deeply, and then scraped her chair back from the table. Revision could wait. She needed Draco more than good grades right now.

Slowly, she climbed the stairs to his room, thinking about what she'd say to him once she opened the door. Would he still be angry with her? Would he want to talk to her at all? Would he tell her to go away – or stay with him?

She reached for the brass doorknob, and twisted it. The door opened creakily; it hadn't been oiled for a while. She peered hesitantly inside.

Draco was sitting on the edge of his bed, his back to her. From his position, Hermione could tell he was probably holding something; but what? Her brow furrowed. Should she call out to him? He hadn't heard her come in, despite the noisy door hinges. He hadn't turned around, at least.

"Draco?" she called, her voice scratchy. He didn't turn in her direction.

"Draco?" she called again, louder this time. He suddenly jumped up, then, and shoved something quickly into the drawer of his bedside table. Something he probably didn't want Hermione to see. This sent Hermione's head reeling, and didn't notice that he'd come over to her until he'd wrapped his arms around her, his lips at her neck.

"I'm so sorry I shouted at you before" he whispered against her skin. Hermione blinked back tears. "I shouldn't have done it"

"No. But it's okay, really. I know it's hard...for both of us, and Anielle" on her daughter's name, her voice broke. He pulled her closer to his defined chest; it was then that Hermione realised he wasn't wearing a shirt. His warm skin was comforting.

He kissed her neck once, twice, three times, his lips feathers against her skin. This was what Hermione had been craving for weeks. This closeness to one another. She slipped her arms around his waist. He lifted his head, then, and looked straight into Hermione's eyes.

"I know I haven't been exactly loyal to you in the past few weeks" he said, seriously. "I know I should have spent more time with you. But I thought...and you're not going to like this....I thought that if I spent less time with you, the less it would hurt if one of us died" Hermione's eyes widened incredulously.

"I said you wouldn't like what I said" he told her, a hint of smile on his lips now.

"It's okay. We're together now" she whispered, her voice barely audible. She was so glad to be back in Draco's arms; to feel the warmth of his skin, the softness of his lips, the caring in his voice...

Tears seeped from under her eyelids and down her cheeks. Draco wiped them away with his thumb; "Don't cry, Hermione" he said quietly as he did so. "I'll make sure that nothing will hurt us, any of us. You'll be alright."

"Are you sure about that?" she sniffed sadly. He nodded gravely in response. "I won't let anyone or anything harm you"

"I nearly lost you once. I don't want to take that risk again, Draco" Hermione said.

"You won't. I'll always be with you..." he trailed off, his expression distant. Hermione frowned in puzzlement.

"What?" she asked him.

He said nothing; merely unwrapped his arms from around her and went over to the bedside table, where he opened a drawer and removed whatever he had hidden when Hermione came in. Her heart started to thump, though she wasn't entirely sure why.

As he came back over to her, he reached for her hand; she took it, and he led her onto his bed. His free hand was behind his back; hiding something. Hermione's mind suddenly made the connection that had caused her heart to thump wildly.

He wasn't...was he?

The object he was hiding.

It was box.

A small box.

Just the right size for a...

_No_. He couldn't possibly be...

Draco took her hand tightly in his own, and piercing grey met chocolate brown. Hermione's heart crashed against her ribs in anxiety. The tension was overwhelming.

"Hermione" he began, his voice breathy. "You know I love you, don't you?"

"Yes" Hermione squeaked. "I know"

"No one makes me happier than you do" he said. Hermione's breath caught. "I love you more than anything in the world, Hermione Granger." He took a breath. "And I want to spend the rest o my life with you". He leaned in closer, his lips inches from hers. He smiled, then stood up, still holding her hand. Hermione flushed bright red, knowing what was coming next. Sure enough, he dropped to one knee in front of her.

"Oh, My" she gasped. He never let go of her hand, but brought the hand behind his back in front of him. In his palm was black velvet box. Hermione's breathing quickened. This was it. This was something she had dreamed of since she was five years old. And now it was really happening.

He slowly opened the box, only to reveal the most beautiful ring Hermione had ever seen; a band of shining silver, set with tiny glittering diamonds and a centre stone of gleaming blue sapphire, and around the stones was a delicate silver web holding it all together.

"Oh, Draco" Hermione gasped. "It's beautiful" She blinked back tears of happiness – but the words she longed to hear were yet to come.

"I love you so much, Hermione. I would do anything to have you by my side forever. Will you marry me?"

Hermione could barely choke out a 'yes' – as tears were streaming thick and fast down her pale cheeks. She flung her arms round his neck, not daring to let go.

"Yes!" she said again, and pulled away so he could slip the ring onto the third finger of her left hand. It fit perfectly. Embarrassed, she wiped away the streaming tears with the back of her right hand. Nothing could compare to the smile on Draco's face.

"Promise me we'll get through this" she whispered, winding her arms around his waist again. The diamonds in the ring caught the light, and sparkled dazzlingly in front of Hermione's eyes.

"I promise" was Draco's reply.

Outside the door, two friends stood open mouthed at what they had just witnessed. Neither could speak a single word.

Inside the room, the two newly-engaged lovers were oblivious to the world around them, for nothing could replace their newly repaired relationship at that very moment.

**_A/N: Well, who saw that one coming?! What did you think? It's been a while since I updated, and this chapter isnt' as emotionally-orientated or as tense as the previous ones...but I hope you enjoyed it all the same. Only two more chapters left now until the end! Don't forget to read and review - I love to know what you all think of this story! xxx_**


	55. Closure

Harry and Ron were stunned by what they had just witnessed. Both were struck dumb. Harry's arm, extended as he had gone to knock on Draco's bedroom door, was frozen in its position. Ron spoke first, after a few minutes.

"Bloody hell!" he whispered. "I can't believe he....you know..._asked_ her."

"Me neither" were Harry's only words.

"D'you think we should go interrupt them?" Ron asked, still whispering. His expression was thoughtful, yet confused. Harry mirrored his expression, with clear incredulity in his green eyes.

"I think it's best if we leave them to it for now" he advised his redheaded friend, his voice quiet also. "We don't want to jinx it – it'll spoil the moment for them."

"Since when did you get so sensitive?" Ron asked blindly, puzzled by Harry's reply. He hadn't known Harry was big on intimacy and sensitivity. Instead of answering, however, Harry just flushed an unnatural shade of salmon pink.

"No reason" he mumbled. "I just think we shouldn't go barging in so soon" he shrugged for a nonchalant effect. Ron wasn't fooled, despite his reputation for being particularly unobservant in certain situations.

"If you're thinking of my sister, by any chance" Ron whispered, suddenly so deadly serious it was nearly comical. "Don't go messing her around. You either like her or you don't, okay? No messing, I mean it Harry." His expression was severe. Harry nodded in agreement.

"Let's just go" Ron said, making for the stairs. Harry turned to follow him, but then –

"_Harry? Ron?_ What are you doing here?" Hermione called them from the doorway, Draco not far behind her. His hands were on her waist. Hermione leant against the doorframe, her face flushed and rosy. There were tear tracks on her cheeks. Her two friends never noticed this, though; their eyes were drawn to Hermione's left hand, where the diamond and sapphire ring Draco had given her glinted beautifully in the lamplight. She saw them looking, and immediately looked worried – afraid of their reactions.

"We came to see you" Harry explained, deliberately averting his eyes from Hermione's left hand. "Because I know it's been hard for you lately...I, of all people, can empathise with that" he gave a small smile, which Hermione returned. Draco simply nodded.

"But I guess we should, er, congratulate you on your, um, engagement" Ron said gruffly, unsure of his own words. Hermione's smile grew wider; but her expression remained worried somewhat.

"You're not angry?" she asked quietly. Harry and Ron exchanged looks, before deliberating how best to answer. Neither was sure what Hermione wanted to hear.

"No, we're not" Harry told her.

"No" Ron agreed.

"Really?" Hermione asked them. They both nodded.

"Really" Ron replied. "If it's what you want....we're your friends. We'll support you whatever you do." Hermione flushed a deeper shade of red, overcome by her friends' kindness. She backed a little into Draco's arms; he slipped his arms around her and held her close. Harry's heart ached. He longed for that kind of intimacy with Ginny. That feeling of closeness...that someone would always be watching over you. It was what he wanted so badly, but couldn't have it because Ron wouldn't let him.

"Congratulations, Hermione" Harry said quietly after a while.

"Thanks, Harry" was her equally quiet reply. The atmosphere between the four of them was somehow tense; like no one knew what to say, exactly.

After a few minutes, Harry and Ron left wordlessly. Hermione and Draco watched them descend the staircase, cross the thick carpet and leave, and once the door was securely closed behind them she turned to him.

"I'm so glad they took it well" she said. "I had visions of them exploding when they found out." She looped her arms around his neck and brought his face down to meet hers.

"I don't think they'd go that far" Draco replied. "They're your friends. I don't think they'd do anything that would deliberately hurt you". He planted a light kiss on Hermione's lips. She pulled him closer, twining her hands together at the nape of his neck so that he couldn't escape. They were so close; she could feel his heartbeat against her own chest. Suddenly, he dipped his head and kissed her exposed neck tenderly, working from her collarbone up to her tender spot just behind her left ear. Hermione tingled all over at his touch, the feel of his soft lips on her skin sending shockwaves through her spine. She wouldn't swap this for the world.

"Now" he said in a voice so low it was almost a growl "where were we, darling?"

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The NEWT examinations were frightful. The seventh year students feared for their lives as one by one they filed into the examination hall – the Great Hall with the House tables vanished and several hundred single seats and desks placed in it – knowing that how they performed would affect the rest of their lives. Hermione, naturally, was panicking uneccesarily, and Draco was trying to calm her down.

"You'll do fine, Hermione" he reassured her five minutes before her Arithmancy exam was due to begin. He himself was waiting to take his Charms examination in the next room. "You're the cleverest witch in our year, if not the entire school. You don't need to worry about it". He planted a light kiss on her lips, and went off to join the other students who were taking Charms.

And she found that Draco was right – she could answer every question, some without even thinking about it, the answer just needing plucking from the vast amount of information in her head. She needn't have worried. She remembered it all. The same went for Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, History of Magic and Defence Against the Dark Arts.

The week was hectic, but it didn't stop Hermione's mind from wandering. She had enough sense to leave her engagement ring in the Common Room; she kept it under her pillow, only wearing in the evenings when she was with Draco alone, but she still thought about him. And Anielle. Rather frequently, actually – several times a day, often in wistful moments of peace, daydreaming about their life together. A life without Voldermort on their trail.

Everything was different now. The absence of Lord Voldermort's attack had made the two lovers more relaxed, more ready to take life easily. It had been weeks since it had been decided, and nothing had happened yet. They had all the reason in the world to be happy once again.

But also, things were sad. Their seventh year was drawing to close, meaning that Hermione and Draco would be apart from each other once the summer arrived, yet he had told Hermione that she could come and live with him at the Manor whenever she wanted. Even permanently, if that was what she wished. It made her heart flutter to even think about it.

Things were changing now, and definitely for the better.

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Their last night at Hogwarts came all too quickly – and for the seventh years, this really was their last night. After this, they would never be coming back.

Hermione, already packed and therefore at a loss for things to do, sat on the edge of her bed for a while and thought about the past year. It had certainly been eventful, if not an adventure of sorts. When she had stepped onto the Hogwarts Express on September 1st, she had no idea that she would make a new friend, gain the most beautiful daughter in the world, and find true love. But it had happened. And she didn't regret any of it.

Yes, her first impressions of Draco Malfoy had not been positive ones. From the moment she had met him she had thought him arrogant, self-centred, spoilt and a bully. How wrong those first impressions were! It had taken her six years, but now she knew who he really was she realised how childishly selfish she had been for not giving herself a chance to get to know him properly, and for letting petty prejudices get in the way of what could have been friendship.

That was then – and this was now. Who knew that she would be wearing the ring of the boy she hated the most in her childhood six years on from when they had met? Who knew that two very different people – in background, upbringing and lineage – would turn out to be not quite so different after all? Who knew true love even existed? Hermione certainly hadn't.

The door to her bedroom opened, and Draco came in, his expression sombre. He crossed the room and went to sit next to Hermione on the bed. He put his arms around her, and she snuggled close to his chest, trying to fight back the tears that pricked her eyes.

"I'll have to leave before anyone else, with Anielle" he told her, his voice flat and lacking any positive emotion. Hermione merely nodded into his chest, not trusting herself to speak. He tightened his grip on her.

"I can't believe its over" Hermione whispered after a few moments, finding her voice; it cracked hoarsely. "We'll never come back"

"I know" was Draco's reply.

"It's all gone too quickly. It doesn't feel like we've been here seven years, more like seven days" she said. She slipped her arms around his waist. "I don't want to leave you"

"You won't be. Not for long, at least. You can come and stay with me" he told her. "And Anielle, of course"

Hermione lifted her face to look into his eyes. The stone grey orbs which met her gaze were unreadable. She unwound one of her arms from his waist to place her small hand on his alabaster face. She traced his lips with her thumb; ran it across his jaw line, cheekbones. As if she were committing his face to Hermione for fear she might forget it.

And then she kissed him, long and hard, twisting her fingers in his blonde hair; his arms had moved from her waist to her shoulders, one hand in her chestnut curls, the other rubbing her back in small, slow circles.

It seemed a new day had dawned when they finally broke apart, breathless. He rested his forehead against hers, their faces inches apart. Nothing could change this moment. Nothing.

A single tear snaked down Hermione's cheek, but neither she nor Draco made any effort to wipe it away.

"I love you" he told her.

"I love you, too" was her quiet reply.

Things were changing. Everything was different.

A new chapter in their lives was being written, right before their eyes.

They finally had closure.

**_A/N: Well, that's it folks! It's all over! The last chapter HAS been uploaded! My main author's note will be in the next update, so I'll just make this brief. What did you think of the story altogether? Good? Bad? Ugly? Did I do the last chapter right???? etc etc. Read, review and don't forget - it's not all over yet! _**

**Hpfangirl4life x**


	56. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**_Now that Left Holding the Baby is complete, I'd like to give a HUGE shoutout to all my loyal readers out there, who have followed this story from the very beginning! So, a BIG, BIG chunk of luurvve to:_**

**_1. Everyone who read this story_**

**_2. Everyone who added this story to their Story Alert List_**

**_3. Everyone who added this story to their Favourite Story List_**

**_4. Everyone who added me to their Author Alert List_**

**_5. Everyone who added me to their Favourite Author List_**

**_6. All the C2s who added this story to their Forums_**

**_7. And anyone else I haven't mentioned yet!_**

**_Now, please don't get your knickers in a twist - Left Holding the Baby may be complete, but the Family Ties series isn't over YET! The second part in the Family Ties trilogy, Risking All For A Child, will be in progress very, very soon - so keep your eyes peeled for that! Here's a short synopsis of what's to come...._**

_Draco and Hermione are happy - they have a daughter they love, an impending marriage, and are truly in love. Things have changed, but the fear isn't over. Lord Voldermort isn't prepared to let the young lovers off so easily, and will do anything to get his hands on baby Anielle._

_Just when they think everything is back to normal, things take a terrifying turn for the worst...._

**_Got you hooked? Look out for Risking All For A Child, coming soon to !_**

**_In the meantime, if you liked Left Holding the Baby, why not read my other two fics:_**

_A New Generation: 19 Years On_

_What If Things Had Been Different?_

**If you have any comments, suggestions or whatever about ANY of my stories, simply press the Review button or send me a Private Message - and I'll do my best to reply to each one! Much love, FanFictioners!**

**HPfangirl4life xxxx**


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